


Rebound

by eideann



Category: NCIS
Genre: Boat Building, Bruises, Case Fic, Date Rape, Death Threats, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Sexual Violence, Stalking, Strip Search, Tony Keeping Secrets, Worried Gibbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 113,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eideann/pseuds/eideann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following his reluctant betrayal and subsequent loss of Jeanne Benoit, Agent Tony DiNozzo rebounds into a relationship that just might be the end of him – unless Agent Gibbs can stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony focused hard on the cold case he was reviewing. They were between cases, and he needed something a little more absorbing than one of his stupid video games. Besides, Gibbs was at his desk, which made playing games a little more risky than if he was, say, up in MTAC.

"Tony, do you have the Hanson file?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, Probie," Tony said without looking. It was in his pile of cold cases.

"Can I have it, please?" Tony could almost hear the rolled eyes in McGee's tone.

Tony picked up the file and held it out, still gazing at the computer screen as he scrolled through the evidence photos of a murder they'd failed to solve a couple years back. There was something there that he was missing, and it was driving him nuts.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped, and Tony looked up, startled. Gibbs was glaring at him. "Conference room! Now!"

Tony jumped up, concealing a wince as a variety of aches and pains reminded him of their existence. He handed the file to McGee, giving the other agent a puzzled look. "What'd I do?" he mouthed at him. McGee shrugged, eyes wide. He turned to Ziva who shook her head as well.

"DiNozzo!"

"Coming, Boss!" DiNozzo called as he hurried across the squad room into the elevator. At this point, other teams were looking at them curiously. He pretended not to notice as the elevator doors shut. It had barely started moving when Gibbs slapped the switch that brought it to a halt. Tony had no idea what to expect when Gibbs turned towards him, anger snapping in his blue eyes.

"Roll up your sleeves," he ordered.

"What?" Tony said, staring at him. He couldn't know. How could he know?

Gibbs raised his eyebrows with more than a hint of annoyance. "Roll up your sleeves, DiNozzo!"

Tony crossed his arms and shook his head, trying not to reveal the tension that filled him at that request. "Come on, Boss, why would you want me to –"

"Damn it, DiNozzo, roll up your sleeves!"

Clenching his teeth, Tony reached down and unbuttoned the cuff of his right sleeve and pushed it up to reveal a series of black and red bruises, some of which had very recognizable shapes. "There, satisfied?" he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Gibbs didn't even seem to notice his tone. "The other arm?"

Tony scowled and didn't move. "It's the same, Boss."

"What happened, DiNozzo? And don't tell me you ran into a door. That won't cut it this time."

Tony grimaced and looked away. He hadn't expected there to be another incident, so he had passed off the shiner as humorously as he could. "It's personal, Boss," he said shortly, hoping that Gibbs would leave it.

"Personal, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, and then he waited in his patented interrogation style. Tony wondered if he dared reach across and flip the switch to make the elevator start up again. On the whole, he thought not, but when Gibbs started the elevator going himself, he heaved a sigh of relief. Mostly. A small, irrational part of him was disappointed that Gibbs wasn't pursuing it. Then he noticed which button Gibbs had pushed.

"Autopsy?" he ventured, hoping there was a work-related reason for the destination.

"You're going to let Ducky take a look at you," Gibbs said.

"No way, Boss. This is a personal matter, and I don't want to –"

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs turned to him. "Not asking, DiNozzo," he said mildly, and left the elevator.

As Gibbs passed through the sliding doors, Tony yelled, "This is none of your damned business!"

Director Shepard emerged suddenly from autopsy, eyes wide. "Agent DiNozzo?" she asked sharply.

Tony stared at her and knew he couldn't handle this. He practically jammed his finger pressing the button for the squad room. The elevator doors had been open long enough that they slid shut almost instantly. He tapped his foot as he hastily rebuttoned his cuff. As soon as the doors opened again, he hurried forward to grab his gear.

"Tony, where are you going?" Ziva asked.

"Lunch," he said over his shoulder as he headed back towards the elevator, hoping he could reach it before the doors closed again. Fat chance.

"It is only just ten a.m.," she protested.

"So I'm taking an early lunch," he replied with a shrug. As he reached the elevator and pressed the button, Gibbs came out of the stairwell at a trot.

"DiNozzo, what do you think you're doing?" he demanded in an undertone, and he grabbed Tony's upper arm, right on a set of bruises Tony hadn't shown him. Tony winced involuntarily, and Gibbs let go like he'd been stung. "DiNozzo, what –"

To make the day ever so much better, the director arrived on the scene just in time to witness both the grab and the wince. "Gibbs, DiNozzo, my office," she ordered.

Tony ground his teeth. He wanted to kill someone. Preferably Brody Harris, but at the moment he wasn't particular. "Director," Gibbs said, "let me handle –"

"My office, Agent Gibbs. Now," Jenny repeated, and when the doors opened, they all walked in. Tony wondered if they could make him any more conspicuous if they tried. He didn't need this right now. He needed to be left alone.

* * *

Gibbs was pissed. Not only was DiNozzo keeping secrets from him, but Jenny Shepard was pushing her nose in where it didn't belong. Again.

He strode into Jen's office and waited for her to shut the door. DiNozzo followed him in looking angry and mutinous, but Gibbs was damned if he was going to let this pass. DiNozzo had been jumpy as hell the last few weeks, ever since he'd come in with that shiner he'd passed off as an accident with a door. At the time Gibbs had assumed he'd had an encounter with an annoyed ex-boyfriend or a husband he'd been unaware of, but clearly there was more going on.

"Does someone want to explain that little scene?" Jen asked once she'd closed the door and walked over to stand facing both of them.

DiNozzo jumped in immediately with, "It's nothing, ma'am."

Jenny looked over at Gibbs, then turned back to Tony. "Tony, under these circumstances, I have to ask this. Has Agent Gibbs hurt you?"

Gibbs raised his eyes to the ceiling. She knew him better than that, but covering her political ass had become second nature to her lately. She supposedly knew Tony too, and he wondered why a woman who was so smart could sometimes be so blind. Not that he'd win any prizes for observation if this had been going on for a month or more.

"What?" Tony exclaimed sounding stunned. "Are you nuts?"

Gibbs snorted. "That's funny, director, I was about to ask you if you'd co-opted my agent for another undercover assignment."

Jen's eyes widened, and DiNozzo turned to him, clearly startled. "I would have told you, Boss."

"Good," Gibbs said. "Why won't you tell me this?" Tony froze, an expression of . . . _shame?_ . . . crossing his face. He turned towards the windows and shut Gibbs out.

"What is 'this'?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs grimaced. He wasn't going to be able to keep her out of it, so he supposed he'd better tell her. "DiNozzo has been physically assaulted within the last twenty-four hours, and he won't talk about it." Tony continued to look towards the windows, his shoulders stiff with fury. "And it's not the first time," Gibbs added, and Tony turned with a surprised look.

"Is this true, Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny asked.

Tony's expression closed down again. "It's a personal matter," he said stiffly.

"Exactly what kind of injuries are we talking about here, Tony?" Jen asked.

"It's nothing, director," Tony repeated.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "He has bruises on his wrists, and apparently on his right upper arm."

Jen gazed at Tony for a long moment, then shot a glance at Gibbs. She took a step closer to Tony. "If this is something consensual . . ." Gibbs hadn't seriously considered that, but the cues weren't right.

"No!" Tony replied instantly, looking almost offended. "No," he said again with less emphasis. "It's a personal matter that I'm dealing with myself."

Jen walked over to her desk, picked up her phone and said, "Cynthia, get me the DC police on the phone, I –"

At the word police, Tony took what looked like an involuntary step towards Jen. "No!" he exclaimed.

Jen paused. "Cynthia, hold off on that, please," she said, and she hung up the phone. She pursed her lips. "What's going on here, Tony?"

"I'm dealing with it," Tony said.

"Not well," Gibbs put in as gently as he could, and Tony flinched. "You've been jumpy for about three weeks now and –"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Tony said.

"Is it a matter for the police or for NCIS?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs scowled. "An NCIS agent was attacked, director. It's a matter for NCIS."

"It's personal," Tony said, beginning to sound desperate.

"Is it job-related?"

"No," Tony said, but he sounded like the word was being dragged out of him.

"So it's a matter for the police."

"No," Tony said.

"Why not?

Tony scowled. With palpable reluctance, he relented. "Because it's a cop," he said. "A DC cop."

"You're being harassed by DC Metro?" Gibbs asked. He exchanged a look with Jen. They'd certainly rubbed Metro the wrong way a time or two, but why would Tony be insisting so firmly that it was personal in that case?

"No!" Tony growled. He rubbed his forehead then stroked his hair back. "It's not like that. It's . . ." He shook his head and walked over to sit down in one of the chairs.

"It's . . . personal?" Jenny said in tones of realization, and Gibbs blinked.

Tony buried his face in his hands. "Fuck!" he said with heartfelt dismay.

Jenny glanced at Gibbs again and walked over to lean against her desk. "Tony, talk to me. What's going on?"

Tony stilled, and when he looked up his expression was sharp and cynical. "Like I'd talk to you about my love life," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "The last advice you gave me turned out so very well."

"That wasn't your love life, Tony," she said. "That was work."

Gibbs took a step forward, but before he could intervene, Tony spoke. "You're right," he said, his voice brittle with anger. "You make an excellent point, director."

"Aren't you late for a meeting, director?" Gibbs asked, his voice laced with irritation and warning. He wasn't letting her wrap DiNozzo up into any more knots over Jeanne Benoit. He remembered all too well how her attempt at a debriefing had derailed.

She looked at him and glanced at her watch. "Actually, I am. Please, use my office for as long as you need it." Gathering her things, she left. Gibbs hoped she gave Cynthia orders to give them some privacy. They did not need Jenny's secretary walking in right now.

He stood there, waiting. If he waited long enough, Tony would talk. And he did. He started off explaining which movie he felt like he was in. Gibbs had never seen it, so he didn't really pay attention. Tony talking about movies was like Ducky talking about the Sudan, it went in one ear and out the other. What Gibbs did pay attention to was the emotional subtext of Tony's blather. He was nervous, embarrassed and . . . and Gibbs still got an inexplicable impression of shame from him. After awhile, Tony couldn't help it, he got down to brass tacks. "I got into a relationship, Boss," he said finally. "It went sour. I'm handling it."

Gibbs grabbed Tony's hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the bruises. "This is not handling it, Tony." He shook his head. "You got feelings for this guy?"

"Who says it's a guy?" Tony protested.

Gibbs unbuttoned Tony's cuff and looked at the bruise, a little surprised that Tony was permitting the liberty. Then he put his hand gently around Tony's wrist to mimic the shape of the bruise, and Tony was out of his chair and five feet away before he could blink. Gibbs looked up at him worriedly. "How far did it go?" he asked. Tony just shook his head. Gibbs was getting damned frustrated with this. He took a step towards him. "How far did it go, DiNozzo?"

"Not that far," Tony said, flushing unhappily.

"How far?"

"Gibbs, it . . ." Tony closed his eyes. "It was in a pubic place, Boss. It didn't go far."

"How far would it have gone if it hadn't been in a public place?"

Tony flushed hotter. "I kneed him in the crotch. He let go and I got the hell out of there."

That didn't answer his question, but Gibbs decided to let it go for now. "What's his name?"

Tony's face went blank for a moment, then his eyes widened into his most innocently puzzled expression. "Who?" he asked.

"DiNozzo!"

"You know my name, Boss," Tony said with gentle reproof.

Gibbs barely kept his tone under control. "What is this guy's name?" he demanded.

Tony blinked at him, and his expression underwent another lightening change. Suddenly he was all business. "What do you think about looking into the McCormick case again, Boss? I've got this feeling that there's something in the evidence that I'm not –"

Gibbs gave up. DiNozzo had stubborn down to an art. "Okay, let's get you down to Ducky."

Tony grimaced. "Is there any way I can get out of this?"

Gibbs knew he had to get DiNozzo distracted or he'd try to get away without being examined again. He shrugged as he led the way out of the director's office. "You could die in the elevator on the way down," he said.

Tony's eyes widened and he looked sort of stuffed. "I'd really . . . rather not."

Gibbs made a pretense of considering the matter. "Of course, then you would still be examined by Ducky."

Tony's jaw dropped. "You've just taken the creepiness award away from Abby," he said when he'd recovered himself. "Just swept it right out from under her."

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs stepped in. "You going to tell her she's been dethroned, DiNozzo?" he asked, trying to maintain the semblance of banter DiNozzo was attempting to put up, but the effort was unavailing. DiNozzo was unusually silent on the way down, and he didn't object to going into autopsy this time. Palmer was working on some kind of inventory task by the sink and Ducky was at his desk. "Palmer, out," Gibbs ordered.

Ducky stood up, looking startled. "Jethro?" he asked, his irritation at having his authority bypassed obvious.

"Palmer, out," Gibbs repeated, telegraphing to Ducky that there was something big afoot. Ducky glanced at DiNozzo, who was studiously examining his shoes, and his eyebrows went up.

"But I'm working on –"

"Take an early lunch, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said. "And call before you come back."

"Yes, doctor," Palmer said, sounding mystified, and he left.

"Is something wrong, Jethro?"

"I need you to examine Tony and report back to me on his fitness for duty."

Tony's spine straightened and he glared at Gibbs. "I'm fine, Boss," he replied.

"Then this shouldn't be any problem for you." Gibbs smiled at DiNozzo's flabbergasted look.

"Is there some sort of subtext here that I'm unaware of?" Ducky asked.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll figure it out soon enough," DiNozzo muttered. He began taking off his tie, but then he glanced at the two sets of sliding glass doors. "Wait a minute. I don't want anyone to see me, Boss."

"It's never been a problem before, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

Tony closed his eyes and pulled his tie off. Looking over Ducky's shoulder, he unbuttoned his dress shirt. The sleeveless undershirt he wore underneath didn't hide the massive bite on his neck, or the bruising along his collarbone. Gibbs felt a stirring of anger, not just at the man who had done this to Tony, but at Tony himself for not coming to him with it.

"Oh my," Ducky said, and Tony flushed again, looking away. "When did this happen, dear boy?" he asked, but before Tony could answer, he said, "Last night, I suppose. Take off your shirt, please."

Gibbs waited until it was clear that Tony would comply, then he said, "I'll be back for you, Tony. You stay here until I come back, you hear me?"

"Yeah, Boss," Tony muttered as he slipped the dress shirt off.

Gibbs got a clear look at the bruising all up and down Tony's arms before he headed out the door. When he reached the squad room, he could see that Ziva and McGee were huddled together over Ziva's desk, talking very quietly. "McGee!" he barked. McGee snapped to attention. "I want you to look up complaints of excessive force, harassment and . . . domestic abuse against members of DC Metro PD." McGee gaped at him. "Now, McGee!"

"Do you know how many returns that's going to give me?" McGee asked.

"Limit your search to active duty officers," Gibbs added. "Between the ages of thirty and forty-five."

"On it, Boss," McGee said, hurrying to his desk. Gibbs sat down and looked in the phone book under bars, making a list of the ones he knew were frequented by off duty cops.

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked hesitantly. He raised his eyes to where she was standing, close to the divider between their cubicles. "Where is Tony?" He sensed rather than saw McGee's head come up slightly, betraying his interest in the answer to that question.

"Autopsy," he said shortly, returning to his list.

"Why?" she asked.

"Don't you have some work to do?" Gibbs asked her without looking up.

"I do not," she replied, and this brought his head up. "You did not give me an assignment, and I do not believe any of my cold cases are as urgent as understanding what is going on with my partner. He must be injured, or he would not be alone with Ducky in autopsy."

Gibbs gazed at her for a long moment. "Good girl," he said with a grin. "Now get back to work."

"On what?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "McGee, pass your information on to Ziva and let her work on it. I want you to pull up Tony's phone records." He could feel their eyes on him. "Cell phone and land line both."

"What am I looking for?" McGee asked.

"Obsession," Gibbs said flatly. There was silence in their work area, no key clicks, nothing more than breathing. Gibbs looked up. "McGee?" The younger man was staring at him like a deer in headlights, and Gibbs relented. "Look for a lot of calls to him from the same number over the last few weeks, calls he doesn't return."

"Yes Boss," McGee said.

Gibbs kept working on his list. McGee passed his task on to Ziva and got down to work on the phone records. Gibbs devoutly wished DiNozzo would just come clean and make all this unnecessary, but he knew how likely that was.

His phone rang. "Gibbs," he said, hoping it wasn't a case.

"Jethro, can I see you in my office?" Jenny said.

"Be right there." He rose and headed for the stairs. When Ziva got up and started towards his desk, he said, "Keep working, Officer David," without turning his head, and she hastily returned to her own desk.

Cynthia waved him straight into the director's office. "Close the door, Jethro," Jen said, and he did. She was seated behind her desk. He walked up to stand in front. "What did he say?" she asked.

"Not a whole hell of a lot," Gibbs replied. "Just that there was a relationship, and that it went sour."

"What kind of relationship?" she asked.

"I don't know, exactly, but he's scared."

"DiNozzo?" she said incredulously. "Scared?"

"Yeah, Jen. He's just as human as the rest of us."

"He told you that?"

"No, he showed me," Gibbs replied. "He hasn't told me squat. He won't even give me a name."

She shook her head. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"I left him with Ducky."

"When he's done and you've got Ducky's report, I want to see you both again."

"Sure." He raised his eyebrows to see if he was dismissed and she nodded. His phone was ringing as he reached his desk. He lifted the receiver. "Gibbs."

"Jethro, we're done down here. Young Anthony is getting dressed. Do you want to come down here to get my report or –"

"Be there in a second." He hung up without waiting for a response.

Tony stood leaning against one of the tables with his back to the door when Gibbs reached autopsy. Ducky was washing his hands. "Well?" Gibbs said.

"He's fit enough. None of the bruising is terribly deep except on his wrists, and that doesn't seem to be affecting his mobility significantly." Ducky glanced over at DiNozzo, then gave Gibbs a significant look and gestured towards Tony's face. Raising his eyebrows, Gibbs walked around and looked. The younger man shifted irritably, but he didn't turn away. Gibbs stared at the bruise on Tony's cheekbone and noted that his subordinate wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Make up?" he asked.

"Indeed," Ducky said. "Very clever work, too."

Tony took a deep breath. "Do you still need me?" he asked.

"For what, DiNozzo?" Gibbs replied.

Tony flinched, but he raised his chin. "Ducky's report," he said.

"No, I guess not." Gibbs peered at the bruise again. "You going to cover that back up?"

Shrugging, Tony said, "I brought the stuff with me in case I needed to touch it up." He gestured towards the pack he'd grabbed in his abortive attempt to escape the office.

"Did you do it yourself?" Tony nodded. "You going to fix it up in the bathroom?" Tony grimaced and didn't reply. "I think Abby has a mirror you can use," Gibbs suggested.

"Thanks Boss," Tony said, and he left the room quickly, the doors sliding shut behind him.

"You're being rather rough on him," Ducky observed in the neutral voice he reserved for when he wasn't sure he approved of Gibbs' tactics with his team.

Gibbs didn't respond directly. He already felt guilty for his harsh response to Tony's earlier plea for privacy, but he didn't want to discuss the matter. "How bad is it, Duck?" he asked.

"Bad enough," Ducky said, abandoning his disapproval for the moment. "You saw the bruising on his arms, but he has a number of bruises between his thighs that he tells me came from a knee being forced between his legs, and there is a nearly full handprint on his left buttock."

"What did he tell you happened?" Gibbs asked. Maybe Tony had felt more able to confide in Ducky.

"Not much, Jethro. I pushed him to explain the bruising between his legs by suggesting that it implied the need for a rape kit. He told me that he was fully clothed during the whole of the assault and that he hadn't had sex of any kind for several weeks."

"Have you got any guess as to the size of this guy?"

Ducky pursed his lips. "Bigger than Anthony, though not necessarily taller. His hands are very large."

"I picked up on that," Gibbs said.

"Mmmh," Ducky replied. "He seems very unsettled." Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Of course he has reason, I do see that, but Anthony so rarely lets anything show."

"He didn't until I called him on the bruises I could see when he stretched out his arm," Gibbs said.

"So he didn't come to you with this," Ducky asked, his eyebrows going up.

"He did not." Gibbs took a breath and looked into Ducky's eyes. "Anything else I need to know?"

"If I were reconstructing the events those injuries demonstrate, I would say that he had been grabbed by the upper arms and slammed into a wall. He has bruises on his shoulders, his lower back, and a small bump on the back of his head. The attacker then shoved a knee between his legs, no doubt to immobilize him." Gibbs scowled and looked away, the images all too clear in his mind. "It is different when it's someone you know," the medical examiner observed unnecessarily.

"Go on, Ducky," Gibbs growled impatiently.

"Yes, of course. Well, he got his hands around Tony's wrists, and they struggled. I believe that is when the bruise on his face happened. He subdued Tony and held both his wrists in one hand while he groped."

"And then Tony kneed him in the groin."

"Gaining himself a bruise just above the knee."

"So we are looking at a very big guy."

"Tony is by no means a small man, but this fellow can clearly physically control him fairly effectively. And the handprint on his buttock covers a great deal of skin."

Gibbs nodded and started back towards the door. "Thanks Duck."

"Do we know who the perpetrator is?"

" _We_ don't," Gibbs replied as he passed through the door. "Tony does." The doors shut behind him, leaving the medical examiner to make of that statement what he would. Scowling, Gibbs punched the elevator button. Sooner or later, Tony was going to talk.

* * *

Tony swung into Abby's lab, keeping the right side of his face towards the wall. She appeared to be hard at work on something, she certainly had the music up loud enough. "Abby?" he said. She didn't respond. He raised his voice. "Abby!" he called.

She jumped and turned, and a three story house of cards with gothic arches collapsed, sending cards across the table and onto the floor. "Tony! Don't _do_ that!"

"Hard at work, I see," he said with a grin. Abby was clearly not aware that there was a secret, which made it easier to be normal at her.

"Get me some evidence to play with and I will work hard," she said defensively. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a mirror I could borrow?" he asked, and her eyes widened. She walked closer to him, and he sighed as she reached for his chin and turned his face so she could see the bruise on his cheekbone.

"What happened to you?"

Tony improvised hastily. "There was this girl, you see, and we were flirting. Then her best friend started hitting on me, and she went to smack her and missed."

Abby blinked at him. "Okay, don't tell me. I've got a mirror in here."

"I think I've just been insulted," Tony said. She set up a vanity mirror on her desk and he grinned. "Perfect. Thanks Abby." He dug into his pack and pulled out the make up

"No problem." Leaning over his shoulder, she watched him get to work covering the bruise, and he started to ask her if she didn't have something better to do. Then he remembered the flimsy structure that had just collapsed and decided not to. "Hey, that's the good stuff," she said.

"Yeah, stage make up." Tony gently rubbed it on, trying not to press too hard. "Told you I did drama in college."

"Right. Not bad. Not bad at all."

He met her eyes in the mirror and winked. "Glad to have my skills approved by a competent expert." She curtsied and giggled. "Now a bit of powder and I'm good to go."

"Amazing. If I didn't know it was there I wouldn't . . ." She trailed off and stood up straight, her fingers fiddling with the end of one of her braids. "How often do you do this, Tony?"

"I don't," Tony said, looking up at her in alarm. "I don't get enough bruises to need to."

"You didn't cover that shiner last month," she remarked thoughtfully.

Tony nodded, not mentioning that it would have taken a true expert to properly cover a shiner that big. "See, I just don't want a lot of questions," he said. "And now I've got to get back to work."

"Send me down some evidence!" she called as he left. "Any kind will do!"

Upstairs, he ignored the curious looks he got from other agents as he returned to their little bullpen. Gibbs wasn't there, but both Ziva and McGee were hard at work. As he passed McGee, he noticed the younger man looking up at him nervously. "What'cha working on, Probie?" he asked cheerily, and he leaned over the partition to see a list of phone numbers that looked startlingly familiar before it disappeared and was replaced by McGee's wallpaper. Tony's stomach flipped over, but he hid his alarm under a mask of irritation. He stood up straight, dug in his pocket and dropped his cell phone over McGee's desk. The other man caught it and stared at it for a moment. "It might be easier just to look at the history, Probie."

"Gibbs ordered it, Tony," McGee said.

"Oh, I know," Tony replied grimly.

"You're not being accused of anything, are you, Tony?" McGee asked.

Charming thought. He shook his head. "Aside from having devilish good looks, no, and that's common knowledge."

"Right," McGee said sourly, and Tony dropped his pack and sat down at his desk. He was all too aware of Ziva's eyes on him. Now that she knew there was something to spot, she was all the more likely to spot it, and he had to keep his right cheek towards her to work on his computer.

"So, Zee Vah!" Tony said, figuring that annoying her would distract her sufficiently to keep her mind off trying to find anomalies in his person. "What does Gibbs have you doing?"

"Working," Gibbs said, and Tony snapped around. Gibbs strode through their space swiftly. "DiNozzo, you're with me." Tony scrambled to his feet and followed. Gibbs wasn't grabbing gear, so he left his behind, wondering where they were going. When he figured it out, he clenched his teeth. What else did Jenny want?

Gibbs led the way into the director's office, and Tony presented himself properly before her desk, waiting for the axe to fall. "Agent DiNozzo," she said, "you have expressed a preference not to involve the police in this situation."

"Yes ma'am," he said when she paused.

"Can you give me one good reason why not?"

Tony had been trying to come up with something she and Gibbs might accept, and he cleared his throat. "Because it's my word against his, ma'am. I have no proof to offer that what passed between us wasn't consensual."

Jenny stared at him for a long moment, then said, "I see."

"It's a personal matter, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." He didn't dare look at Gibbs. He didn't want to see how he was reacting.

Jenny took a deep breath and appeared to be thinking very hard. "I can accept that argument," she said, and he didn't let his relief show, putting on the iron man face he'd learned from Gibbs. "Unless you've been determined to be unfit for duty . . ." She paused and raised an eyebrow at Gibbs. Tony still didn't turn, and his boss had remained behind him. "Very well, then, for the moment I will take no official notice of this." Tony couldn't keep his relief off his face now. "But there are conditions," she added.

"Conditions?" Tony repeated warily.

"If this man comes near you again, if he tries to contact you, you will tell Agent Gibbs and myself immediately."

"Director!" Tony protested.

"Otherwise I will direct Agent Gibbs to open a case immediately."

Tony scowled. Great, now he was getting pushed from both sides. "Fine," he grated.

"You are dismissed, Agent DiNozzo."

He turned and walked out without a glance at Gibbs, and he heard her hold his boss back. He went back down the stairs and jittered at his desk, wondering what she was talking to Gibbs about.

* * *

"Yes Jenny?" Gibbs said once DiNozzo had closed the door and gone.

"I said we won't take official notice. I want you to start an unofficial investigation. Find out who this guy is."

Gibbs shrugged. "Already underway, Jen."

Her self-deprecating smile acknowledged that she should have known the order was unnecessary. "How bad is it?"

Gibbs considered how best to answer the question without compromising DiNozzo's privacy any more than he had to. "He hasn't been raped," he said mildly.

"That isn't exactly reassuring."

"Is it supposed to be?" Gibbs asked. She really did have her head on backwards sometimes.

"What are we going to do to keep him safe in the meantime?"

"I don't know what you're going to do," Gibbs said. "I'm taking him home with me tonight."

Her eyebrows went up. "How long is that going to last?"

"Until I decide otherwise," he said.

"You always were high-handed, Jethro," she said with evident amusement.

Gibbs shrugged again. "When I have to be."

"Which is always?" Jenny asked.

His patience exhausted, Gibbs tilted his head. "You need anything else, Jenny?"

"No. That's all."

Gibbs left the office and went out on the mezzanine where he looked down on his team from above. McGee and Ziva were working hard while Tony sat at his desk getting absolutely nothing done. He made his way down the stairs, startled by the fact that DiNozzo was being quiet. Usually when he was nonproductive, he was blathering on about something. It only made Gibbs worry all the more. From the look Ziva shot him, he could tell that she had noticed, too.

"DiNozzo?"

"Yeah, Boss?" Tony said. He didn't get up. He barely even looked up.

"Didn't you say something about the McCormick case?"

DiNozzo's head came up. "What?" He blinked at Gibbs. "Yes."

"Then get to work."

DiNozzo stared at him for a moment, and Gibbs raised his eyebrows. Tony bent to his computer and started working.

* * *

Tony glanced at his computer's clock and contemplated the fact that it was quitting time. On the whole, none of them paid much attention to their posted hours because on the whole, they were busy on casework, and their posted hours made limited sense. Today, however, Tony was past ready to leave. He didn't have anything hot, and he was tired of the covert glances Ziva and McGee kept shooting him. He was annoyed by the thought that they were investigating him rather than a real case, and the tension he was feeling from Gibbs made him want to be as far away from the man as possible. Sooner or later the blow was going to fall, and he didn't particularly want it to be today. He'd had enough fun today.

Gibbs was down talking to Abby about something, and Tony suspected from the lack of communication he'd had from that quarter since his visit earlier that Gibbs had her working on some aspect of this case that they weren't taking 'official notice' of. He didn't know if the director had ordered Gibbs not to pursue it or what, but if she had, he was ignoring her.

When Ziva got up to use the head, Tony took advantage of McGee's legendary focus and, holding his backpack carefully in front of him where McGee wouldn't see it, he got up and headed for the elevator. The wait for the car to come and the door to open were the longest forty seconds he'd experienced all day. He stepped quickly in when the doors opened and cut left to stand against the wall where McGee would have more trouble noticing him if he happened to look up. When the doors closed, he just had to worry that either Ziva or Gibbs would somehow magically wind up outside this elevator when it opened again on his floor. That kind of thing happened often enough that he didn't relax till he was in his car and on the road.

Brody Harris had a lot to answer for, and today's tensions just topped the list. What had started as a much-needed descent into no-strings-attached carnality had taken a turn for the surreal when Brody had abruptly started checking up on Tony's whereabouts at random moments. Tony hadn't known what to make of it, but he started distancing himself when he realized that Brody was getting jealous. They weren't dating, they were screwing around, and Brody had no claim on him.

He took the turn into the parking garage attached to his apartment building and pulled into his spot. Home. He was looking forward to a pleasant evening spent watching movies and drinking beer. He got out of the car and shouldered his pack, heading for the elevator. A large figure emerged from between two cars ahead, but instead of moving towards the elevators, it came towards him. Tony recognized him instantly and felt a frisson of fear that he quickly suppressed. He came to a stop. "What are you doing here, Brody?"

"You ran away from me last night," Brody said, walking up so that he was just inside Tony's space bubble and stopping. "I want to figure this out, Tony."

"There's nothing to figure out," Tony said, keeping his tone as light as he could. He wanted to back up, but that would just give Brody what he wanted, and he'd keep pushing. He knew that from experience. "I told you, we're done."

"Why do you get to decide for both of us?" Brody asked, raising his eyebrows. "We need to talk about it. I don't want us to be done."

"Fine, Brody, then I'm done," Tony said. He took a step sideways and started towards the elevator.

Brody turned and paced him. "You're right, Tony, we really should have our conversation in your apartment."

Tony stopped again. "We're not having this conversation. Everything that needs to be said has been said. I'm not doing this anymore."

"I'm not leaving till we've talked it out, Tony," Brody said, crossing his arms. "So we might as well go inside and –"

"You're not welcome in my apartment," Tony said, glaring at his former friend. "I thought I'd made that pretty clear."

"Giving me a key and then telling me to stay out is kind of a mixed message, Tony," Brody said. "You haven't even asked for it back."

Tony scowled. "Fine, then give it back."

"Tony," Brody exclaimed in exasperation. "I don't believe you mean any of this." He put his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed, trying to catch Tony's eye. Tony did take a step back then, to break the physical contact. "Let's go get dinner and you can explain it to me again. I'll listen."

One of Tony's neighbors passed by them and Tony bit his lip. This was an awfully public place to be having this conversation, but he wasn't letting Brody back into his apartment. "Fine, let's go down to the place on the corner."

They walked in silence, and Tony wished he could figure out how to just make Brody leave him alone. The man took stubborn to a whole new level. Tony took the stairs down, not really wanting to spend even a couple of minutes alone with Brody in an enclosed space. Five minutes in the alley last night had been more than enough.

The place on the corner wasn't so much a restaurant as a deli. Orders were taken at the counter and paid for, and when the food was ready, someone brought it to the table.

Tony went to the counter and ordered a sandwich that would take them maybe three minutes to put together in the back. Once his food came, he'd have an excuse to leave, and there would be no check to worry about.

"I'm buying," Brody said as Tony dug out his wallet.

"No, you're not," Tony said, pulling out some cash for his food. "That was one of the things we agreed on from the start. No 'date' trappings."

Brody held out a card to the cashier. "Maybe I want things to change a little," he said quietly in Tony's ear.

The cashier looked at them nervously. She took the cash Tony held out, glancing uneasily at Brody, who lowered his card when it became clear that no one was going to accept it. Tony took his change and his number and thanked her. Then he found an unoccupied table that was close to the exit and seated himself where Brody would have trouble blocking him in.

Brody took in the seating arrangements with a sneer and sat down across from Tony. "Why do –"

Tony leaned across and interrupted him in a low voice. "Brody, this is not a negotiation back into any kind of a relationship. This is me explaining to you why we don't have a relationship anymore." His phone rang, and he pulled it off his belt. Gibbs. He didn't really want to talk to his boss right now, but . . . any port in a storm. As he started to flip the phone open, Brody snatched it.

"Gibbs, huh?" Brody said, glancing at the LED. "He can wait."

Tony shook his head and held his hand out for the phone. "We're not twelve, and this isn't a game of keep away. This is my job. Give that back."

"We need to talk."

Short of wrestling it out of Brody's hand, which would draw unwanted attention, he wasn't getting it back at this moment. Tony huffed out a sigh of exasperation. "Fine, you asked me to explain it to you again. You got the wrong idea about our relationship, and when I tried to back off, you wouldn't let me."

"If I got the wrong idea, Tony, it's because you gave me the wrong idea."

Tony gulped. He really hoped that wasn't the case. "If so, I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to deal with your jealousy or your possessiveness." The phone stopped ringing, and Tony ground his teeth. Now Gibbs was going to lecture him about rule three. This was so not his night.

"I'm not any of those things," Brody said. "I just like to know where you are."

"And when I tell you and you don't like it, you get to punch me in the eye?" Tony asked in a brittle voice. Brody rolled his eyes. "And when I say I don't want to talk to you, you get to slam me against a wall?"

"Don't be such a girl, Tony," Brody said.

Tony snorted, shaking his head. "And now we know why I'm done." Meredith came out with his sandwich wrapped to go. He rose and thanked her, taking the bag. His phone began to ring again. He grabbed it before Brody could put it out of reach and answered it. "DiNozzo."

"Where the hell are you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded.

"Getting dinner," he said, turning his back on Brody and walking out into the street. "Why?"

"Because I'm staring at your car wondering where the hell you are and why my key doesn't work in your apartment door anymore."

"Why are you – I'll be there in five minutes, Boss. I'm just down the block."

"Good." The phone went dead as Gibbs disconnected. Tony flipped the phone shut and put it back on his belt.

A hand on his shoulder made him turn. Brody stood there. Tony shrugged away. "You're not going to do this on a crowded street in broad daylight, are you?" he asked. Brody looked around, then went back into the deli, scowling, and Tony sighed with relief.

Returning to the garage, he found Gibbs leaning against his car. "Got your locks changed, huh?" his boss asked.

"Yeah," Tony said on a sigh. "I've got a new key for you. I've been meaning to give it to you, but –"

"But you weren't sure how to explain the change, were you?"

Tony shrugged and hit the elevator button. "What's up, Boss? Why're you here?"

"You're staying with me, DiNozzo. I didn't expect you to leave without checking in."

"With you, Boss?" Tony said. "But . . ." Gibbs raised his eyebrows, and Tony thought better of what he'd been about to say. "Okay. Thanks for the invitation."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, and Tony led the way to his apartment. Once they were inside, he went straight to his desk and pulled out Gibbs' copy of the key.

"When did you change the lock?" Gibbs asked.

"Three weeks ago," Tony said. "Let me pack some things. How long am I staying with you?"

"Till I say otherwise."

Tony stopped dead in the door to his bedroom and turned around. Brody's voice telling him not to be a girl rang in his ears. "I'm not hiding from him, Boss," he protested.

"No, you're not," Gibbs said. "You're staying with a coworker."

Tony shook his head. "It will look like I'm hiding."

Gibbs walked up to him, very close, but he did not break the space bubble. "I don't give a damn what it looks like, DiNozzo. Pack your things and let's go." Recognizing that Gibbs was not going to listen to reason, Tony nodded and went into his room. Gibbs headed out into the living room again, but as he went he added, "And it's not like we're going to the Antilles, DiNozzo. Pack light, we can come back if you need more later."

Tony dropped his sandwich on the bed, grabbed a couple pairs of jeans, some boxers, a few shirts that wouldn't hold wrinkles and stuffed them in his duffle. Opening his closet, he debated taking a suit, but an impatient noise from the living room made him close the door, grab the duffel and go. He headed towards the front door, but Gibbs pulled him up short. "You forgot your sandwich, DiNozzo."

Flushing, Tony went back and got it. "So, am I driving myself, or –"

"You're with me," Gibbs replied. "I'm parked on the street."

Tony hoped they wouldn't run smack into Brody on their way to Gibbs' truck. His luck, though it had been out all day, seemed to be in now because they didn't. The ride was quiet. Tony was aware of too many things he didn't want to say, and Gibbs was being himself. Once at Gibbs' place, Tony took his stuff up to the bedroom he always stayed in, then headed downstairs, the sandwich bag dangling from his hand. He put it on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa, covering his face with his hands. He didn't move until he heard glass settling on wood. Widening the gaps between his fingers, he peered at the coffee table in front of him. Gibbs had placed a beer within easy reach. It was so cold, it had beads of condensation running down its sides. Reaching out, Tony picked it up, took a deep swallow and sighed.

Gibbs sat down at the other end of the sofa with his own beer. "For someone who went to all the trouble of going out to buy a sandwich, you don't seem to be very interested in it."

Tony looked at the paper wrapped bundle in its clear plastic bag. The idea of eating it made him feel slightly nauseated. After a moment, he picked it up and threw it across the room where it thumped against the wall and fell to the floor. Fortunately, it didn't break open.

"That make you feel better, DiNozzo?"

Tony slumped back on the sofa. "Not really."

"You want to tell me –"

"Am I fired?" Tony asked abruptly, as anxious to get it out of the way now as he had been to avoid it earlier.

Gibbs was silent for a minute, or maybe two. The time stretched into hours. "Now, why would you be fired, DiNozzo?"

Tony stared at the neck of his beer for a moment, then glanced uneasily at Gibbs, who was just gazing at him with what looked like genuine puzzlement. He thumped his head back against the sofa and grimaced. "Okay, now I feel stupid."

"Is that why you didn't come to me?" Gibbs asked, and Tony shrugged, knowing his boss would read the gesture correctly. He read things in Tony's body language that Tony had managed to keep hidden from everyone else for years. "I'd give you a solid smack on the head, but Ducky tells me you've got a bit of a bump."

Tony closed his eyes and groaned. "So, do we go down and work on your boat, now?"

"You going to get drunk and break things?" Gibbs asked.

Startled by the question, Tony turned to him. He looked like he was in earnest. "I have no plans in that direction."

Gibbs snorted, but he didn't explain the bizarre question. "I take it you don't want the sandwich."

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Tony drained the beer and put the bottle down. "He was in the garage when I got home," he said.

Gibbs straightened up. "He do anything?"

"No. He just wanted to talk. I figured the deli on the corner was my best bet for shedding him without a fuss."

"He seem like he was giving up?"

Tony rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You got any more of these?" he asked, gesturing at the empty bottle.

"I thought you weren't getting drunk."

"On beer, Boss? It takes way more than two to get me any further than mellow."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Is it a condition of getting another beer?"

"Does it have to be, DiNozzo?"

Tony leaned forward and shrugged. "No, he didn't seem like he was giving up."

There was a knock on the door, and Tony looked up, mildly alarmed. Brody wouldn't have followed them, would he? Gibbs gave him a dubious look as he got up and went to answer the door. The voice he heard made Tony grin with relief. Abby would distract Gibbs completely from his attempt at interrogation. Gibbs followed her in, and Tony saw from the expression on his face that he had come to the same realization.

"Abby!" Tony said as if he hadn't seen her for a week. She shoved the bags she'd brought into Gibbs' arms and flew across to give him a huge bear hug. He returned the embrace, then drew back. He started to say something, but she gave him a punch in the ribs. "Ow!" he exclaimed, though it didn't really hurt. Somehow she'd missed all his bruises. "What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the spot.

"For lying to me. You knew Gibbs knew, so you should have known I would know before long, so you might as well have told me the truth, but now I know, and you know that I know, and –"

"Abby . . ." Gibbs said remonstratively.

"It's true," she protested, though Tony was pretty sure he wasn't objecting to the veracity of what she'd said. "Anyway, I brought a few things over because I remember what it was like when I came over here because I was being stalked."

"Abby, I'm not being stalked," Tony said.

"Is that so, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked in that deceptively mild tone he used when he was calling them on a fib. Tony looked away.

"Gibbs?" Abby exclaimed. "I thought you would have cured him of his denial by now."

"He's a tougher case than you, Abbs, and I got interrupted."

"By what?" she asked, clearly not sure.

Tony rolled his eyes at her and snorted, amused by her lack of clue. "What did you bring me?" he asked.

"Oh! Presents!" She hurried over to where Gibbs had put the bags down. "I picked up some rum because I know you prefer that to bourbon, and I got these." She turned around with a couple of packets.

Tony took one and looked at it. "Blow up fists?" he asked.

"Well, I thought they might be helpful, since when I was here, I broke Gibbs' boat. This will keep you from damaging anything."

Tony blinked at her. "You broke the boat?" She nodded. "And you're still alive?"

"He loves me," she replied, grinning up at Gibbs, who shook his head, a slight grin on his face. "Anyway, I just wanted to bring those over and check up on you because I haven't seen you since you lied to me."

"You're not going to let me forget that anytime soon, are you?"

"We'll see. You still haven't brought me any evidence." She turned to Gibbs. "So, I'll leave him to you, Bossman. See you tomorrow." She bustled out, like a black and red comet full of good cheer. Gibbs followed her and closed the door behind her.

Tony took the rum into the kitchen and put it on the counter. Then he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"You're not having rum?"

"Without Coke?" Tony asked facetiously. "Not likely."

"DiNozzo –"

"I don't want to talk about it, Boss," Tony said. "I already feel stupid enough."

"I was going to suggest ordering a pizza," Gibbs said.

"Oh." Tony studied Gibbs' expression, but he couldn't tell if he'd changed tack abruptly or if he'd always been going to ask about pizza. "I can make the call."

"Go for it. You're paying."

Tony ordered the food, but then he was left alone with Gibbs again. Tony had never been very good at silence. Naturally, Gibbs knew that and was using it against him. Tony clamped his teeth together. He knew that if he got started talking about anything, it would eventually work its way around to what Gibbs wanted to know, so he was trying not to say anything at all. Except that made him nervous, and the only that made him stop being nervous was talking. Gibbs moved around the kitchen, pulling out paper plates and napkins, vastly amused by Tony's efforts and not bothering to hide it.

The pizza arrived and Tony went to get it so he could sign the credit card receipt. They took it down to the basement where they ate without speaking for awhile, Tony sitting on the floor and watching Gibbs work. When the question came, it was a bolt out of the blue and Tony was taken entirely by surprise. "Why'd you change the locks?" Gibbs asked.

"He had a key," Tony said without thinking, then he clamped his mouth shut again. Damn it! An hour of silence made him desperate to fill the room with something – anything – and Gibbs knew it.

"You gave him a key?" Gibbs asked.

Tony shrugged and gave up on this point. "I didn't want him waiting outside my apartment. It didn't seem like that big a deal at the time."

"Has he ever used it to get into your apartment when he shouldn't have?"

Tony leaned his head back against the wall, wincing slightly when the bump made contact. "I'm not sure," he admitted finally.

Gibbs didn't respond immediately, but there was a tense quality to the silence. "You're not sure?" he asked intently.

"No, I'm not," Tony snapped. "I'm not the neatest person on the planet, so if some things were moved, I might not be able to tell. He'd started following me by that point, so I figured it was best to get the lock changed. Safer."

"Well, we'll have to be at your place between three and five tomorrow," Gibbs said.

"Between three and five?" Tony repeated. "Why?"

"To let the locksmith I called in."

"Gibbs, I already changed the lock," Tony protested. "He doesn't have a key."

"Neither did I," Gibbs replied, and Tony shook his head, not sure what he meant. "I said my key didn't work, DiNozzo, not that I didn't get in."

Tony washed a suddenly dry bite of pizza down with swig of beer and stared at nothing. The thought of Brody getting in that way, picking the lock and just coming in when Tony was out and waiting to surprise him was startlingly freaky. He didn't think Brody could pick locks, but he'd been wrong before. He hadn't thought Brody would get all demanding lover on him, either.

"What soured it?" Gibbs asked several minutes later.

"I'm sorry?" Tony asked, not immediately making the connection.

"You said you had a relationship, and it soured. What soured it?"

Tony took a deep breath and sighed. "I think I said something earlier about not wanting to talk about it."

"And just what difference did you expect that to make to me, DiNozzo?"

"I would think that a friend would be a little more sensitive to –"

"A friend, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I wouldn't be talking to my boss about it," Tony said, and Gibbs nodded slowly. "It's private and personal and utterly humiliating. Not the kind of thing you share with your boss if you can avoid it."

"What do you mean humiliating?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm a federal agent," Tony said. "I used to be a cop. I should be able to deal with this on my own. I shouldn't be –" Tony shook his head, breaking off.

"You shouldn't be what, Tony?" Gibbs asked. "You shouldn't be scared of him?"

Tony sat up straight. "I am not scared of him," he protested. "I just shouldn't need . . . help, I guess. I shouldn't need help to deal with this."

"Needing help from your friends is not a sign of weakness." Tony didn't respond. He didn't know what to say. "You didn't answer my question."

Tony stood up. "You done with the pizza?"

"Yeah."

"I'm putting it in the fridge."

"Okay." Tony grabbed one of the mugs that sat on the workbench. "Where are you taking that?"

"Rum." Gibbs raised his eyebrows, and Tony shrugged. "I'm not nearly drunk enough."

"Are you bringing the rum down here?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"Then why are you taking the cup upstairs?"

"I thought I'd wash it out before I used it."

Gibbs shrugged and Tony took that for permission. He went upstairs, washed out the mug, stuck the pizza in the fridge and grabbed the rum. He also contemplated going up to the spare room and hiding, but he thought Gibbs would probably come after him if he did that. That really would be embarrassing. So instead he took the cup and the rum down with him and poured himself a healthy mugful.

Gibbs waited until he'd drunk some, then he said, "Do you trust me, Tony?"

"Of course, Boss."

"What's this guy's name?"

Tony gaped for a split second, then he recovered. "What guy?" he asked, smiling sunnily up at Gibbs and pretending to be more drunk than he was.

"Tony," Gibbs growled warningly.

"Nope, Boss, that's still my name," Tony said, and Gibbs glared at him. Tony shrugged and took another swallow of rum.

* * *

Tony could be very slippery. It was one of the things that made him a good undercover agent. He had an answer for everything, quick, off the cuff, and sometimes even believable. He loved undercover work – or he always had – because he got to be someone else for awhile. Tony DiNardo had come a little too close to Tony DiNozzo, though. Gibbs shook his head. Jen should never have run him in that op. She didn't know him well enough to recognize when he was in too deep, and DiNozzo would never admit it when he was over his head.

And that was the problem here. It might not be an undercover assignment, but DiNozzo was almost treating it like one. He'd gone from one secret relationship into another, neither of them altogether healthy, and he still wouldn't admit that he was over his head.

Alcohol loosened his tongue. A drunk Tony was a voluble Tony, but Gibbs knew that once he'd started to get really drunk, there was less chance than ever of him slipping up and spilling something he didn't want known. Maybe it was a side effect of fraternity life, Gibbs didn't know, but once DiNozzo was drunk, he turned into an eel, slipping from topic to topic and never landing on anything serious.

He'd come close to talking tonight, and that's why he was so determinedly trying to get drunk. Gibbs glanced at the clock. It was past ten. "Go to bed, DiNozzo," he said wearily. "We've got work tomorrow."

As he'd known he would, Tony leapt on the opportunity to escape and went, but Gibbs was glad to see that he left the rum behind. Gibbs sighed as he bent over and screwed the lid on tightly. He wasn't sure how to break Tony's shell on this.

He picked up his cell phone and called McGee, who was still at the office. "See if you can get the security footage for floor three, section B of the parking garage of DiNozzo's building."

"Um . . . sure, Boss," McGee said.

Gibbs closed the phone and dropped it on the workbench. Somehow, he doubted Tony would open up even if they identified his tormentor. Gibbs wondered whether he was going to have to get the story from the bastard. He would if Tony wouldn't tell him.

The next morning, Gibbs was surprised not to have to call Tony. He was up and raring to go at five a.m. In Gibbs' experience, Tony was not an early riser, and though people change, Gibbs didn't think Tony had become a morning person. On the other hand, awakening from troubled dreams could make a man decide that going without sleep was better than spending another hour in hell.

They made a stop by the shop Tony called Gibbs' 'caffeine pusher,' and Gibbs shook his head over Tony's sugar and cream with a splash of coffee. Tony seemed not to be suffering the aftereffects of his indulgence the night before, but then he hadn't actually had that much. "Are you getting anywhere with the McCormick case?"

"I was thinking about asking Ziva to look at the pictures and see if anything jumps out at her, Boss," Tony said. "It's from before her time, so she'd be coming to it completely fresh."

"That's a good thought."

The kid was silent for a moment then, and Gibbs glanced over to see if he was wearing that smug grin he often got after even the slightest bit of praise. He wasn't. He looked pensive. "What are you going to do about your little unofficial investigation if we catch a case today?" he asked.

"You let me worry about that, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Keep working on the McCormick case as long as you think you've got something."

"Or until we catch a case."

Gibbs shrugged an acknowledgment of that. When they reached the office, they went to their own desks and DiNozzo started straight to work. They were a little early, but Ziva and McGee were at their desks. McGee was still wearing the clothes he'd had on yesterday, but Ziva had clearly freshened herself up a bit.

Before Gibbs had been at his desk five minutes, a little box appeared on his screen. It appeared to be from McGee, and it said, "Check your e-mail, Boss." When he looked up, McGee wasn't looking at him. Grimacing, Gibbs opened his e-mail and found the one from McGee. The most recent one from McGee, actually. He appeared to write a lot of e-mails. Pursing his lips, he scanned the message. When all the unnecessary jargon was dropped out, the gist of it was that Tony's cell phone records showed no signs of a stalker. All the calls to and from cops could be traced to cases, and no one had called more frequently than seemed normal. Same on his landline. Gibbs glanced up at DiNozzo, who was watching Ziva go over the photographs at his computer. Evidently, he'd taken the time to cover the bruise again today. Gibbs wondered if Ziva had noticed it yet.

Gibbs was contemplating how he was going to talk to McGee when the box flashed in the bar at the bottom of the screen. He clicked it and saw that McGee had sent him a new message. "Type in the empty box at the bottom," it said.

Sighing, Gibbs began to type. "Did you get the surveillance footage?"

"On its way. Any more instructions?"

"Can you break into his e-mail account?"

"NCIS?"

"Personal."

McGee didn't respond, and Gibbs looked up to see him blinking at the screen. He stood up and walked towards the elevator to autopsy and Abby's lab. After a moment, Gibbs followed him and they got into the elevator together. Gibbs hit the emergency stop. "Yes, McGee?"

"Boss, you probably shouldn't give illegal orders in IM. They can be captured and read later."

"I see," Gibbs said. Presumably, IM was what the little box was called. He returned to essentials. "Can you do it?"

"Sure, Boss," McGee said. Gibbs set the elevator moving again. "But why?" McGee asked, and Gibbs closed his eyes. He hit the emergency stop again. "I'm sorry, Boss, I'll do whatever you say, of course, but why are we investigating Tony? He says he's not accused of anything."

"He's not," Gibbs said. "And it's not really Tony we're investigating." Scowling, he contemplated the fact that McGee would be considerably more effective at his job if he knew what he was looking for. "It's someone stalking him."

"Tony's got a stalker?" McGee said. Gibbs nodded impatiently. "And he doesn't know who it is?"

"Oh, he knows," Gibbs said. He turned the emergency stop off again.

"Then what's her name? Why are we –"

The doors opened and Gibbs looked at McGee. "Tony won't tell us his name."

"His name?" McGee repeated. "His?"

Gibbs walked up and stood right in front of McGee. In a very quiet voice, he said, "Yes, his. You got a problem with that, McGee?"

"No Boss," McGee said quickly, looking alarmed.

"Then get back to work."

When they returned to their desks, Tony was on the phone, talking earnestly to someone, and Ziva was at her desk. Evidently she had seen something that got DiNozzo's synapses firing. McGee settled down and started working, and Gibbs closed the silly window he'd been talking to him in.

DiNozzo hung up the phone. Gibbs looked up as his senior agent grabbed his backpack and shouldered it. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"To question Midshipman McCormick."

"Midshipman McCormick?" McGee repeated in a puzzled voice. The case had concerned a Marine colonel, one David McCormick, who'd been found dead in his backyard. Suspicion had fallen on the wife, but without real evidence, the case had gone cold. There had been no midshipman involved.

"The daughter?" Gibbs asked.

"She's attending the Naval Academy, now," DiNozzo said with a nod. "I've made an appointment with her CO to talk to her."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "Ziva, go with him," he said, and she grabbed her own gear. The look DiNozzo threw him was schizophrenic. Gibbs never sent any of them out alone if he could help it, and Tony knew that. Nevertheless, Tony was wondering if Ziva was his minder. Truth be told, it was a little of both. He needed McGee here to do the computer searches, and he trusted Ziva's skills to keep Tony safe in the field.

"Actually, Ziva, give me a minute. I want to grab something." DiNozzo dropped his backpack and went to the rear elevator.

McGee leaned forward. "Ziva, what did you see?" he asked once the elevator had gone.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I was looking over his shoulder at the photographs when he suddenly said, 'That's it! Why did I not see it before?' and forgot all about me."

Gibbs grinned. Competition. That was really what made his team tick. Each one of them trying to get the best atta boy from the boss. DiNozzo had needed the extra edge of knowing that Ziva might find the answer first to sharpen his mind so he could see past his blinders. Whatever worked.

Tony came back with a bag from the evidence locker, tucked it into his pack and hurried straight for the elevator. Ziva had to run to catch up. Gibbs watched them go with an indulgent smile, then he started looking through the names, records and photographs of the men Ziva had turned up.

Damn the boy. Why couldn't he just tell him what he needed to know? Then he could put the fear of Gibbs into the bastard, and it would be over and done with.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony let Ziva drive. He wasn't in the mood to argue, and he knew she liked to be behind the wheel. After all, her driving had improved. A couple years in the states – and a number of accidents – had mandated that. Besides, letting her drive gave him the opportunity to consider approaches to Midshipman McCormick. He didn't seriously suspect her, but if the answer to his question was what he thought it was, she had a lot to explain.

"What is going on, Tony?" Ziva asked.

Tony glanced over at her to make sure her eyes were on the road. She had an alarming habit of turning to face the person she talked to while she was driving. "I guess I didn't give you many details of the case. A little over three years ago, Marine Colonel David McCormick was found dead in his backyard. He'd had his neck broken in the tried and true Marine Corps style. His wife had been having an affair with another officer, but he proved to have a verifiable alibi. There were suspicions that Mrs. McCormick had hired someone, but we could never substantiate it. I think his daughter knew more than she let on."

Ziva nodded. "I see. Thank you, but that is not what I was asking about."

"It's not?"

"I wish to know what is going on with you. Why is Gibbs investigating police officers? Why are you hiding a bruise on your face under make up?"

Tony kept his hand away from his face with an effort. "I didn't feel like answering a bunch of questions," he said. "You remember all the ribbing I took on that black eye last month?" She nodded. "I didn't want to deal with it again."

"You did not hide the black eye." He shrugged and checked his phone. To make himself look busy, he sent a random text message to Abby about the concert she'd invited him to. He didn't want to think about the black eye. He certainly didn't want to talk about it. Ziva's silence was heavy. "You could not hide it, could you?" she asked finally.

He grimaced and looked out the window. "No, I couldn't."

Looked like they were going to make pretty good time today, which was a happy thing because that limited the amount of time he'd spend alone with a Mossad trained interrogator. When he felt her hand on his sleeve, he pulled his arm away, but not before she managed to slide the knit shirt's cuff up a few inches, revealing the mottled bruising. He tugged the sleeve down and clenched his teeth.

"Who did that to you, Tony?" she asked expectantly, the smothered anger in her tone surprising him.

"It's personal," he said irritably, looking away.

"I am your partner," she said angrily. "Does that not mean something?"

Tony closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I haven't told Gibbs. If I haven't told Gibbs, what makes you think I'll tell you?" She was silent, and Tony glanced at her to see if she'd gotten the message. She was looking at him, and there was a slow-moving big rig ahead of them that she didn't seem to see. "The road, Ziva! The road?"

Letting out a curse he couldn't understand, she turned and changed lanes to avoid slamming into the truck. Honks behind them expressed other drivers' irritation at being cut off. "Very well," she said. "Do not talk to me, but I will find out sooner or later. Would it not be better to simply tell me rather than making me discover it for myself?"

"Think of it as an opportunity to brush up your investigative skills," he muttered.

"I would much rather have my partner be straight with me," Ziva replied. "I have plenty of opportunities to perfect my skills."

Tony wished she'd stop harping on the partner thing. Kate had never done that. "Do you tell us everything about your life?" he asked. "Do you tell _me_ everything about your life?"

"Well . . . no," she replied.

"For instance, I still don't know how you got those friction burns on your knees."

"Friction burns . . ." She shook her head. "What are you talking about, Tony?"

"When we were in that shipping container, you told me you might tell me if we lived long enough. Still haven't heard a word."

"You remember that?" Ziva asked incredulously.

Tony shrugged and tapped his temple. "Like an elephant up here."

"What, big, slow, wrinkled and gray?" she asked, her voice lilting with amusement.

He rolled his eyes. "We have an old saying, elephants never forget."

"I see."

"And what about that time when you came in to work with your feet wrapped in bloody rags? You didn't explain that."

"I believe you asked me not to."

He shook his head. "The point is there are lots of things you don't tell me about what goes on in your life," Tony said. "Personal things. Maybe you know I'd rag you on them, or maybe you're embarrassed by them, or maybe they're just nobody's business but your own." His volume rose somewhat on that last remark, and he closed his teeth with a snap. He didn't need to be yelling at people.

Ziva shrugged irritably. "Very well, I will not ask."

"Thank you."

"I think you should tell me, but I will not ask."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. "Think I'll catch forty winks."

Ziva was silent for a moment, then said, "Why would you wish to catch winks? And why forty?"

"Ziva, I'm taking a nap."

"Then why not just say that?"

"I did. Can we stop now?"

She fell silent, and he really did drift off for awhile. He had actually just been trying to get her to shut up, but he'd gone short of sleep on too many nights in the recent past. It was catching up with him. When she spoke, it jerked him awake. "We are almost there."

He sat forward, trying to blink away the muzziness that tempted him to lie back again. He was glad she'd woken him before they'd reached their destination or he'd have been doing this while going through the halls of the Naval Academy. Not really the image he wanted to project.

When she had parked the car, she said, "Turn towards me."

"What?" he asked, complying.

"You have marred your make-up. You may wish either to remove it entirely or touch it up."

He pulled the visor down and examined his cheek in the mirror. Most of it was gone, and what was left was obviously make-up. He sighed. There were midshipmen and naval officers moving around nearby, and he didn't really want to be witnessed putting on make-up before going in for an interview. Again, not the image he wanted to project. Grimacing, he pulled a handkerchief out of his bag and wiped off what remained of the make up. It wasn't a particularly impressive bruise, just noticeable. He turned towards Ziva. "Better?" he asked.

"Much. Who hit you?"

"I did, actually," Tony said truthfully, and Ziva's eyes narrowed. "Let's go."

Midshipman Diane McCormick was waiting for them in a small conference room. She rose when they came in and smiled nervously. "Agent DiNozzo, right? Is this about my father?"

"It is," Tony said, indicating that she should sit down and joining her at the table. "I want you to tell me again where you were when your father was killed."

Her eyebrows went up, he thought he detected a hint of alarm in her eyes. "I told you and Agent Todd that I was at my friend Brianna's house."

Tony nodded. This could be nothing. Or it could be vitally important. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the evidence he'd fetched from the locker and placed it on the table between them. Still in its plastic bag, the broken knife looked sad and abandoned. When he saw McCormick's eyes, he knew he'd guessed right. Taking a deep breath to quell the triumph he felt, he said, "Do you want to amend your statement in any way, Midshipman?"

Diane McCormick reached out and touched the folding knife through the bag. "How did you know?"

Tony shrugged modestly. "Let's try this again," he said gently. "Where were you when your father was killed?"

The girl looked down and took a deep breath. "I was there," she said to her folded hands. "I saw it happen."

Tony blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Why didn't you tell us that then?"

McCormick swallowed and looked up. "I was terrified," she said. "I didn't know the man, and it was dark. I'd never have recognized him."

"Okay," Tony said, keeping his tone calm and even. "Why don't you start at the beginning and tell us what happened?"

She nodded and glanced uneasily at Ziva before starting her story. "I was coming home from cheer practice. I'd loaned my knife to one of my friends, and he'd broken it trying to pry a box open. I . . . I'd been trying to get up my nerve to admit it to my dad. I knew he'd start using words like responsibility and disappointment, and I . . . it took a couple of days. I knew I didn't want to approach him with Mom around, because she hadn't wanted him to give me the knife in the first place."

"The knife was a gift from your father?" Ziva asked.

"He knew I wanted to follow in his footsteps," McCormick said, flushing. "So, I knew Dad would be in the backyard when I got home. It was just after seven, and he always went out for a smoke after the six o'clock news. Mom didn't like him to smoke inside. I went down the passage between our house and the one next door and found the gate open. It was usually locked, so I was kind of surprised. I'd been messing with the knife in my hands as I walked, but it was cold so I had gloves on." Tony nodded. That made sense as the only fingerprints on the knife had been badly smudged. "I pushed past the gate and saw my dad arguing with some guy. I couldn't really hear what they were saying, and all I could tell you about the guy was that he was a little taller than Dad, and a lot broader. Dad said something louder, it sounded like, 'Absolutely not,' and then he turned his back on the guy. Then, the minute Dad's back was turned, the guy reached up and snapped his neck."

"Then what happened?" Tony asked quietly.

"I dropped the knife and let out a . . . I was freaked. The man turned and ran towards me. I started to run but my coat caught on the gate and before I could get loose, he was on me. He put his hand over my mouth and told me not to tell anyone what I'd seen and he left. When he was gone, I went over to Dad's body, but he was . . . you saw it." Tony nodded. No one could live with his head at that angle. "I went to Brianna's house and pretended that it didn't happen."

"So Brianna lied for you."

"Sort of," McCormick said.

"Sort of?" Ziva asked. "Either she did or she did not."

"She did, but she doesn't know it." McCormick shrugged. "She was rocking out to her music when I got there. I told her I'd been there since six-thirty, and she believed me."

"Do you think –"

"I called, once, to tell you guys, but . . ." She glanced at Ziva.

"But what?"

"It was about two months after." Tony glanced down involuntarily at the bag, which was labeled in Kate's handwriting. He noticed the date and thought he knew where she was going. "I called the number on Agent Todd's card and asked for her. I think it was you who answered." She nodded at Ziva. "She said Agent Todd was dead, and it was too much for me. I couldn't deal with it. I hung up and . . ." She shook her head violently. "I didn't know what to do."

"It's okay, Diane," Tony said.

Tears had begun to overflow despite her best efforts. Ziva slipped out and returned several minutes later with the girl's CO and her roommate. Tony went out into the hall with Captain Penelli, leaving McCormick with her roommate and Ziva. "What's this about?" Penelli asked, clearly a little disturbed by the fact that Tony had apparently driven McCormick to tears.

"Were you aware that her father was murdered two years ago?" Tony asked, and Penelli shook his head. "The case has never been solved, but Midshipman McCormick has evidence that she was too frightened to bring forward at the time. Unfortunately, that meant we had to take her through the experience again."

"I see," Captain Penelli said. "Have you got everything you need?"

"I'm afraid not. We're going to need her to work with a sketch artist when she's calmed down a bit. We'll be taking her to NCIS Headquarters."

Penelli nodded and went in to talk with McCormick. Ziva emerged and raised her eyebrows at him. "That was good work, Tony. Have you called Gibbs?"

"Right." He grabbed his cell phone. When Gibbs answered, he said, "We're bringing Midshipman McCormick back with us, Boss. She witnessed the murder."

"She what?" Gibbs sounded startled.

"It was her knife at the scene, not the killer's."

Gibbs was silent for a moment. "I see. That was a long shot."

"I know," Tony said, biting his lip. "But I didn't think it would do any harm."

"Good work, DiNozzo."

The accolade felt as good as ever, and he was too used to it being followed by the click of Gibbs' hanging up to find that distressing. He still had 'it,' whatever 'it' was. He pocketed his phone and started making the arrangements necessary to liberate a midshipman from the academy for a few hours.

* * *

Just after one, an envelope was delivered to McGee's desk. Gibbs felt like he was drowning in a sea of bad cops, so he didn't pay much attention. It was several minutes later when McGee spoke. "This is it, Boss. The security footage."

Gibbs looked up and saw McGee start to put it into the DVD player. "Don't. Abby's lab."

McGee looked startled, but he followed Gibbs automatically when he headed towards the elevator. The young man didn't always think things through. Showing the footage of Tony's last confrontation with his stalker on the plasma in the squad room would breach Tony's privacy more thoroughly than even their all too public scene had done yesterday.

"Gibbs!" Abby greeted gleefully. "What are you doing here? I have nothing for you. Is your radar not working?"

"We have something we need to watch," Gibbs said, and her eyebrows went up. "McGee?"

The youngest of his agents scurried forward and popped the disk into the machine, stepping back with the remote. The time code at the lower right of the screen put it at about 1600 hours. "Take it about two hours forward," Gibbs said. "Tony made his escape around five-thirty." McGee snuck a look at him and Gibbs feigned not to notice. He'd been pissed when he found that no one had any clear idea of when Tony had left, just that it had happened while Ziva was in the head.

The images sped up and only slowed down when the clock reached 17:45. McGee kept it going at about double time till Tony's leased Audi turned up. Tony got out and started towards the elevator. The angle wasn't the greatest – above, behind and slightly to the right. A figure in dark clothing came out from between two tall SUVs to Tony's right, and the agent slowed to a stop.

"Unless he turns and looks into the camera, I'm not going to be able to get much out of this, Gibbs," Abby said.

"In a minute, Abbs," he replied, walking towards the large screen in the lab. "This is the first time I've seen it."

The man was huge. He was a good five inches taller than Tony, and broad without giving the feeling of being soft. He walked right up to Tony, into his space. Gibbs half-expected to see his agent take a step back, but Tony held his ground. The two men spoke for a few moments, then Tony tried to slip past him to the elevators. The man turned to walk with him and Tony stopped again. When he started to put his hand on Tony's shoulder, Tony evaded him. After several more moments, he and Tony headed towards the stairs where they disappeared. Gibbs gazed at the empty garage pensively. It did confirm Tony's story so far as it went.

"Who's Gigantor?" Abby asked.

"That's the question, Abby," Gibbs said.

"Well, his sheer size ought to narrow the search a bit," McGee said, running the image back till Gigantor was side by side with Tony.

"Abby, do you – my God, is that our stalker?"

Gibbs turned to see Ducky staring at the screen. "It appears so," he said.

"He is quite large enough to be very intimidating," Ducky remarked. "Abby, have you seen Mr. Palmer recently?"

"Nope," Abby said. "Has he vanished on you again, Ducky?"

Ducky shrugged. "The boy moves with unexpected speed sometimes, and sometimes he's like molasses. I shall have to speak to him about it." He walked forward and peered at the screen. "Yes, Jethro, I'd say this man could easily . . ." He paused, glancing at the audience. ". . . do what I described," he finished circumspectly.

Gibbs nodded. "Abby, is there –"

"Fuck!"

Gibbs turned and saw that DiNozzo had come in behind them. He was rigid, staring at the screen. Diane McCormick was right behind him, and she stared at DiNozzo with alarm. "Agent DiNozzo?" she said worriedly.

Tony's eyes dropped from the monitor to the faces of the people in the room. He paled and abruptly left, disregarding both McCormick and Ziva as he all but ran out of the lab.

"Is something wrong?" Midshipman McCormick asked, and her voice was a bit tremulous.

Gibbs stifled a curse. "Stay," he ordered his team as he hurried past McCormick and Ziva after DiNozzo. The elevator was closing as he reached it, and he could see DiNozzo inside. He slammed his fist against the door then looked at the lights. Down. He took the stairs two at a time and reached the next floor just in time to see the doors to autopsy closing. He hurried in and found Tony leaning over the sink. He looked up as Gibbs entered and dropped his eyes again to the drain.

"Hey, Boss," he said. His voice was flat and his body practically vibrated with tension.

"Hey, DiNozzo." Gibbs walked over and leaned against the end of one of the autopsy tables. "That was quite a reaction."

"Why can't you leave it alone?" Tony asked without turning.

"If McGee showed up with bruises like yours, would you leave it alone?" Gibbs asked mildly, curious to see what DiNozzo would say, to see if he would recognize the contradiction.

Tony's head sank, which Gibbs took to mean that he got the point. "I'm not McGee," he said in a low, angry voice. Okay, he got the point, but he was still fighting. Gibbs sighed.

"What does that mean, Tony?" he asked. "That you're less worthy of help? Or that you wouldn't expect McGee to be able to handle something like this on his own?"

"I don't like coming into Abby's lab and finding pieces of my life up on the screen," DiNozzo said, predictably changing the subject. "The last time that happened, I wound up in jail for murder."

"You're not under investigation this time, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "You –"

The door opened and Ducky walked in. When Director Shepard came in behind him, Gibbs bit down on the angry diatribe he'd been about to launch at the medical examiner.

"Jethro, Agent Gabriel Maitland is dead. I need you and your team on the case immediately."

Tony stood up straight. "Gabe is dead?" he asked blankly. Gibbs glanced over at him. News like this was bound to hit DiNozzo hard.

Jenny nodded. "Found in his car. I'll see that Midshipman McCormick gets back to the Naval Academy when Abby's done with her. I need your team, and Ducky and Palmer on the scene five minutes ago."

Gibbs nodded once and gathered Tony to him with a glance. "Where is it?"

"Saint Charles, Maryland. His home," Jenny said, handing him a slip of paper.

Gibbs collected Ziva and McGee, and saw DiNozzo reassuring McCormick out of the corner of his eye as they left. "DiNozzo!" he called.

"Coming, Boss!" DiNozzo said. Gibbs had him drive, since he knew DiNozzo already knew the way.

The crime scene was unpleasant. To all intents and purposes, it appeared that Agent Maitland had killed himself. He was found in the driver's seat of his car, in the garage of his home, and the car was on. The engine had stalled out when it ran out of gas, but that was long after Maitland had died.

"I was supposed to pick him up at one," Agent Travers said, running his hand through his hair till it stood up straight. "The front door was locked, but I went around back to look in the windows and saw him in the car. I broke the window, but . . ."

Gibbs nodded. "Did you touch anything?"

"Just the doorknob and the car door. It was closed when I got here."

"It was unlocked?"

Travers nodded. "Yeah."

"Have you been to the house before?"

"Once or twice, never for long. Just to pick him up." He shook his head, looking miserable. "I don't know why he'd do a thing like this."

"We don't know that he did," Gibbs said, and he wrapped up the interview, sending Travers back to NCIS headquarters. Sighing, he went inside. McGee was already working on the man's computer. Tony was in the garage, making sketches, and Ziva was taking photographs.

Gibbs wandered the house, taking stock of the man. Everywhere in the house was evidence of family life. Photographs of two little girls gradually getting bigger decorated the hallway, toys lived in a bin in the family room, and there was a miniature tea table set for four in one of the bedrooms. Three stuffed animals and a doll sat at the table. "Where are his wife and daughters?" Gibbs asked. It was two o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon in August. There was no school, so one might expect that they'd have been home sometime during the day and would have noticed what had happened.

"Disney World," Tony said, coming into the living room from the kitchen, and Gibbs saw McGee look up from the computer in surprise. "He was supposed to join them there on Friday. He'd have been there now if that embezzlement case hadn't heated up."

"Did you know him well?" McGee asked.

"We hung out when I first came to work at NCIS," DiNozzo said. "Before he met Sheila and turned all family man overnight." He shrugged. "We talk from time to time." DiNozzo turned to Gibbs. "This wasn't suicide, Boss. We spoke on Monday, and he was fine, looking forward to leaving on Friday, earlier if he could get away. There is no way he killed himself."

"You know we'll look at the other possibilities first, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, and Tony nodded.

Gibbs went back out to the garage to see if Ducky had a time of death yet. The elderly medical examiner gave him a dry look. "I've barely gotten here, Jethro. Give me a moment."

"There was no note with the body," Ziva said.

"Was there anything else with the body?" Gibbs asked.

"His wallet, a business card in his shirt pocket for an exterminator, his wedding ring and some sort of class ring on the other hand."

Gibbs nodded. "Ducky?"

"I'd say about four a.m." Ducky sat back. "This reminds me of a case I dealt with in Edinborough. The young man in that case –"

Instead of cutting him off, Gibbs left him to it. Ziva and Palmer could listen. It would be good for them. DiNozzo was on the phone. "Yes, a locksmith. He should be there between three and five. Can you let him in for me? Thanks." He hung up and came to attention when he noticed Gibbs. "I didn't think we were likely to get there by three, Boss."

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs hated cases like this one. If it was suicide, it would be a blow to the morale of every agent involved, and it would destroy his family. If it wasn't suicide, then there was a murderer out there who not only didn't value the man's life, but didn't care much for his reputation either. "Anything on the computer, McGee?"

"There are three e-mails in his sent folder. It looks like he keeps it pretty cleaned out. One is to his wife, telling her when he should arrive at the hotel on Thursday night, one is to his brother asking him to please mow the lawn for him over the weekend so his wife won't be annoyed when she gets back, and the third is to Zap It Exterminators complaining that the mice are back."

"Those don't sound like the e-mails of a man on the verge of suicide," Gibbs commented.

"Boss, there are two glasses in the sink," DiNozzo said. "It might not mean anything, but –"

"Bag and tag them, DiNozzo."

They worked the crime scene like any other, and if Gibbs was more than usually aware of DiNozzo's mood, that could be laid down to the fact that the victim had been a friend. They finished up, cordoned the place off, and were just getting ready to get in the truck when Tony got another phone call. His expression went very grim, and he took a few steps away. Gibbs listened hard, concerned that it might be Gigantor.

"Yes, I know," DiNozzo said in a soft voice. "I know. Sheila . . . yes, it's him. I saw him. Yeah, my team caught the case. I know, and no, it hasn't been ruled suicide. Anyone who told you that was jumping the gun. It does look like that, but we don't make assumptions. Yeah, he told me. He also told me that he didn't blame you. I know, Sheila. Calm down. Your girls need you. They're far away from home and . . . yes, I know. They need Mom to be there for them right now . . . good . . . I'll see you when you get back. I've got to go. Yes. Take care."

Gibbs did his best to seem as though he hadn't just listened to DiNozzo's half of that conversation, but from Tony's expression, he evidently didn't succeed. "Let's go, DiNozzo," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony had been wishing for a case since yesterday at approximately the moment Gibbs had ordered him to roll up his sleeves, and now they had one. He was experienced enough not to blame himself for the death. Whoever had murdered Gabe hadn't done it because of his wish. Still, he felt like a jerk because when he'd seen the director come into autopsy, he'd been glad to have a case.

He was aware of the way Gibbs was watching him, the swiftness with which he'd turned to listen to the phone call. Even with a case regarding the suspicious death of another agent, Gibbs wasn't letting Tony's issue go. "We'll need to talk to Chuck," Tony said. "But embezzlers don't usually go in for murder."

"What about that man who tried to kill Abby?" Ziva asked.

"He didn't try to kill Abby," Tony replied. "He tried to _have_ her killed, and she was actively testifying in a case against him. I mean, Gabe was just one of several investigators involved in the case. Why kill him specifically?"

"If it does not have to do with his case, then what does it have to do with?" Ziva asked.

"That's what we've got to figure out. Tony, I want you to talk to Agent Walther," Gibbs said. Chuck Walther was the lead agent on the embezzlement case. "Ziva, find out who Agent Maitland's friends were around the office and get a feel for his mood in the last few days."

"Yes, Boss," Tony replied.

"Yes, Gibbs," Ziva said.

They broke up at the elevator, Tony heading for the squad room Gabe's team had been centered in. No one was at their desks, so he checked around and got Chuck's cell phone number. He called him and arranged to meet him at a coffee shop downtown. His team was talking to some Pentagon officials, but he said he'd send Travers and Mayfield on to handle the next interview on their own.

Borrowing an agency car, Tony drove out to the coffee shop and found a spot in a nearby parking garage. Chuck was already there when he walked in, and he'd ordered Tony a coffee. Nothing fancy, just black. Tony doctored it the way he liked it and said, "How are you doing?"

Chuck shook his head. "I'm not sure. It's not really real yet. Mike said he killed himself."

"We haven't determined that yet," Tony replied, wondering if it had been Mike Travers who'd called Sheila. "You know NCIS policy."

"Right, but is there any evidence that it's murder?" Chuck asked.

"Actually, I need to ask you a few questions," Tony said, and Chuck's eyebrows went up. "I'll be needing a copy of your case file, but can you just give me a feel for how your case is going? I know that on Monday Gabe wasn't expecting to be able to leave until Friday, but he told Sheila he'd be getting there on Thursday night."

Chuck shrugged. "I felt bad about screwing up the family vacation," he said. "If we don't have it resolved by Thursday morning, it's not likely to get anywhere before Monday anyway."

"Okay," Tony said. "Have you noticed anything odd about Gabe's mood in the last few days?"

"I don't know," Chuck said. "Not really. He's seemed totally himself, though he . . ." Chuck paused thoughtfully. "We were up half the night last night, going over some records we'd just got hold of. He might just have been tired, but . . ."

"What, Chuck?" Tony said. "You know anything could be important."

"He seemed a little withdrawn last night towards the end of the night. You know Gabe, he's always kind of chatty, always making jokes. He just wound down last night. I kind of assumed he was tired, but it could have been something else."

"Did he say anything?"

"No."

"Do you know what records he was looking at when he started 'winding down' as you put it?"

Chuck gave him a file number, and they parted. Tony watched him drive off, then walked to his car where he found an unexpected figure leaning against the trunk. Tony stopped about ten feet off, but Brody had already seen him. Besides, he didn't have anywhere to retreat to. That was his car, and he needed to get back to the office. The only other option he'd have would be to catch a cab, and that would be difficult to explain to the motor pool.

He walked the rest of the way up. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" Tony asked.

"Day off," Brody replied. "So, you're meeting guys in coffee shops instead of bars these days, huh? How very genteel."

Tony grimaced. "That was work," he said. "And if you don't mind, this is not a good day. Another agent – a friend – was killed, and we caught the case. I need to get back to work." He walked on past Brody, pulling the key out of his pocket to open the car door. Before he could get the key into the lock, Brody grabbed his upper arm and spun him around to face him. Tony lost his grip on the key, but he didn't see where it went. "Brody, I don't have time for this," Tony snarled, jerking his arm back, trying to get loose.

Tony had parked next to one of the cement pillars that dotted the garage, in a kind of niche that looked like an afterthought. It had the benefit of being near the elevator, but he had cause to regret the choice as Brody dragged him around to the other side of the pillar from the rest of the garage and pushed him up against it, forcing his knee between Tony's legs again and holding him firmly by the upper arms, no doubt adding new and exciting bruises to his collection. Tony tried and failed to get free. His gun was digging into his back, and Brody was placing uncomfortable pressure on his groin. This was not good. In this spot, only someone who actually walked into the niche would be able to see them, and since there was only space for three cars, there were only two people who might have reason to come in.

"Are you crazy?" he demanded angrily. "Let go of me." He'd really prefer to get out of this without a fight that might cause injuries that they'd both have trouble explaining.

Brody gazed at him for a long moment. "How did you get out of your building this morning without me seeing you?" he asked, and Tony gulped, appalled. "I waited for three hours in range of your car, and finally abandoned it around nine."

"Brody, this is nuts," Tony said. "You've got to stop following me."

"I knew you'd be at the Navy Yard, so I waited outside the front gate. I saw you go out with that pretty partner of yours and followed you to Annapolis."

Tony shook his head. "Brody, you have to stop. We're done."

"Nobody walks away from me, Tony," Brody growled, leaning forward. "I say when we're done, and we're not done yet. Not by a long shot."

Tony had had enough. He tried to break Brody's grip on his arms, but the other man's hands just tightened. Tony winced and brought his knee up. It was humiliating to use such a girly tactic, but it had proven effective last time. Not this time. Brody blocked the blow and leaned in closer to Tony, limiting the force he could put into a second attempt. Tony tried to hook his free foot around Brody's ankle to pull his leg away with minimal success, and Brody jerked him forward just enough to make it possible to slam him back. Tony grunted as his head hit the wall "Brody, I have to get back to work," he grated through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, your dead agent." Brody shrugged. "I heard he committed suicide."

"What?" Tony exclaimed, staring at him. "Where?"

"I was in a car down the block. I heard some guy talking on his cell phone."

Tony blinked. "What did he say?"

"That a guy named Gabe had killed himself, what of it?"

"Gabe didn't kill himself," Tony said.

"You got evidence?" Brody asked.

"Not yet, just . . . I knew him really well. He didn't kill himself."

Brody's eyes narrowed. "Just how well did you know him?" he asked, his tone suspicious.

Tony stared at him in shock. "You aren't seriously jealous of a dead guy, are you?" Brody's eyes narrowed still further. "That's sick, Brody. Now let me go." His forearms were free. There wasn't much he could do, but, sliding his right arm behind his back, he could just about reach his pistol. Not that shooting Brody would be a great solution. It would just bring up an entirely different set of problems, ones he didn't need during a difficult case. Brody sensed the movement anyway and shifted his grip, pulling Tony's arm out from behind his back. Tony succeeded in getting his left arm free and dug his thumb into Brody's throat. "God damn it, Brody, I have work to do." Brody leaned back, grabbed Tony's wrist and slammed it back against the wall above Tony's head. He brought the right wrist up to join it and held them both in his left hand. Tony was reminded unpleasantly of Monday night's antics. He didn't need this. "Brody, this has gone far enough!" he said, glaring at the other man.

"Not nearly far enough," Brody murmured, his eyes hot with passion. Now that he had both of Tony's arms immobilized again, he leaned in and tried to kiss him. Tony turned his head away, and Brody followed, kissing the corner of his mouth. His right hand had dropped lower and was kneading Tony's butt.

"Brody, get your hands off me," Tony ground out.

Brody chuckled, and brought his hand up to Tony's chin, pulling his face around front. "Kiss me, Tony," he said.

Tony tried to knee him again, but he couldn't get much force behind the blow, and it only made Brody grunt. The other man grabbed his hair and held his head steady while he pressed a kiss to Tony's lips. Tony kept his mouth closed and tried to still the very real fear rising in his gut. He couldn't get away this time. He didn't think Brody would go all the way in a parking garage, not where they could be caught at any moment, but Gibbs had asked how far things would have gone Monday night if they hadn't been in public, and Tony thought he knew the answer now. He took a deep breath when Brody turned his attention to his neck, his hand dropping to fondle Tony's groin. "Brody, you can't do this," he said in a low, urgent voice, trying to ignore the unwanted intimate touch. "Someone could come to pick up his car. We could be seen."

Brody took his earlobe between his teeth. "I will see you later, Tony. I don't care what you say, we are not done."

With that, he released Tony and walked away like nothing had happened. Tony leaned back against the pillar, made sure his clothes were straight, and tried to gather himself. After a moment or so, he pushed away from the pillar and looked around for the car key. It had skittered away underneath the parked car on the other side of the pillar, of course. Tony was forced to go down on his hands and knees and stretch his arm out all the way under the car, and even then he could barely reach it. His sleeve wound up covered with dirt and old grease from the underside of the car, and his temper was fraying badly. He got into the agency car and used the rearview mirror to check for any visible signs of his altercation with Brody. There was nothing, but he stopped in a gas station restroom on his way back to the office to wash his face and ear.

Once he'd turned the car in, he went to Chuck's desk to find the file that the other agent had told him about. Gibbs was already there, looking through Gabe's desk. He looked up as Tony approached and took in the dirtied up sleeve. "What happened to you?"

Tony had been contemplating his options on the drive back. Telling Gibbs about Brody's latest attack would only serve to distract from the case, and with another agent dead, Tony didn't want to do that. "I tripped, dropped the keys, and they fell under a car. I had to dig them out."

He should have known better. Gibbs stood up and walked over to him. "DiNozzo?"

"What?" Tony asked innocently. "I need to pick up a file that Gabe was working on."

Gibbs looked like he was about to say something, but his cell phone rang. Saved by the bell, Tony thought as Gibbs answered it. "Gibbs." Pause. "All right, we're on our way." Gibbs closed his phone and said, "Abby's got something for us." He stood for a moment, looking into Tony's eyes, and Tony knew the issue hadn't been dropped, only shelved. Then Gibbs turned and led the way to the elevator. Tony half-expected him to stop the elevator halfway down, but he didn't.

"I hate it when I'm longing for a case so bad and then we get one and it turns out to be something like this," Abby said when they came in. "Tony, I know you and Gabe were friends. I'm sorry."

Tony bit his lip and grimaced when he found that it was tender. "What have you got?" he asked in what he hoped was a normal tone.

"Fingerprints on these two glasses." She gestured to them on the table sitting next to a half full bottle of whiskey. "They contained scotch, both of them, from this bottle." She picked one up in her gloved hands. "The prints on this glass are also on the bottle. Those are Gabe's, which makes sense. I'm running the other prints now."

"Anything else?"

"Oh good, you haven't been to Ducky first," Abby said, and Tony prepared for another digression. Abby could be almost as bad as Ducky when it came to digressions, but hers were at least entertaining. "I always hate it when you go there first because I feel unloved, and because he steals my thunder. You get here and you already know half of what I've got to tell you."

"The evidence, Abby?" Gibbs asked with mild impatience.

She picked up an adjustable wrench. "This was found in the garage, which at first blush, seems perfectly reasonable. Where else would you keep a wrench? It's clearly Gabe's, it has a tag that says Maitland on it plain as day." She demonstrated the tag.

"Are there prints on it?"

"No, Gibbs, it's clean."

"Then what good is –"

"You don't understand Gibbs," Abby said eagerly. "It's completely clean. It was in this toolbox, lying on top of a bunch of other tools, all of which have fingerprints all over them. Gabe's, his wife's – she's a teacher so her prints are on file – and little tiny fingerprints which I'm guessing belong to his daughters." Tony darted a look at Gibbs and saw the slight flicker that betrayed emotion. Abby held out the wrench proudly. "This one has no fingerprints on it anywhere."

"That is something," Gibbs said.

"And," Abby said, "there is a tiny little bit of blood in the screw part here."

"And?"

"And it is Gabe's blood type, and I'm having it tested for DNA. Not that it will help us much if it matches. Gabe's tools, Gabe's blood. It could have gotten there at any time."

"Good work, Abby," Gibbs said, and he turned to leave.

Tony started to follow him, then paused. "Did Diane McCormick do okay?"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs called, and Tony grimaced.

"I'll tell you later," she said as he hurried out.

In the elevator, Gibbs said, "I see you took off the make-up on your cheek."

"I screwed it up and there was neither time nor place to fix it at the academy," Tony said.

Gibbs studied his face. "What about the ones on your chin? You planning to cover those, too?"

Tony's mouth opened, but he didn't know what to say. The doors slid apart and Gibbs started forward. Tony followed, peering into reflective surfaces as he passed, trying to get a look at what he meant. Just as Ducky looked up, Tony took up a thoughtful pose, cupping his chin in his hand to conceal whatever Gibbs had seen.

Then he realized that he was standing two feet from Gabe's body where it lay naked on one of the tables with its ribs spread wide. It disturbed him even though he knew it was necessary. Seeing the bodies of people he'd never met until they were dead in this condition was bad enough, when it was people he knew, people he cared about, it was different. Two years ago he had deliberately avoided autopsy until he knew Ducky had finished with Kate.

"Jethro, I was just going to call you. I've found something that makes this look very bad."

"It didn't look bad before, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Of course that's not what I meant, Jethro. I just . . . I'm afraid we can rule out suicide. I've discovered a small fracture at the base of the skull."

"Is that the cause of death?"

"Oh, no, carbon monoxide poisoning was most definitely the cause of death, but if this had gone untreated, it would have caused death in six to forty-eight hours, and he might not have realized how bad it was till very close to the end. The blow most certainly caused unconsciousness, and it happened very close to the time of death. Within a few hours."

"So you think he was unconscious when he was put in the car?"

"It's very likely, or he would have gotten out. " Gibbs rolled his eyes at Ducky's statement of the obvious. "Well, he certainly didn't hit himself in the back of the head." Ducky bent to the corpse, gesturing towards a small dent at the base of the skull. "Now, the blow is very distinctive. I will send a photo up to Abby, and if we can find the weapon, we can probably identify it. It's most likely –"

"An adjustable wrench," Gibbs said.

"Yes, how did you . . ." He trailed off and his eyebrow went up. "Abby?"

"Get that photo to Abby, Ducky," Gibbs said as he led the way out of autopsy. Tony followed him into the elevator and stood beside him.

"I need to get that file from –" He broke off when Gibbs hit the emergency stop. Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Tony cleared his throat. "Gibbs, we have a case."

"And you have bruises on your face that weren't there when you left. Unless you're going to tell me Agent Walther attacked you, I'm going to assume that you had another run in with your friend."

Tony closed his eyes. "We don't have time for this," he said resolutely. "I'm fine."

Gibbs turned on him, looming, which was a feat for a man two inches shorter. "You're fine?" he growled. "What part of fine encompasses the bruises turning up on the backs of your hands?"

Tony looked down at his hands and swallowed. He hadn't thought of that. He put his hands in his pockets. "Boss, Sheila, Madison and Amber need to know that whoever killed Gabe will pay for his death."

"And how effectively can you investigate Gabe's death if you're being physically assaulted while you're out interviewing people?"

Tony felt cornered. Gibbs was way too close and way too angry, and he backed into the wall of the elevator, hissing slightly as the back of his head made contact with the wall. Gibbs let out a muffled curse and hit the emergency stop again, then pressed the button to open the door. "Get out," he ordered.

"Gibbs . . ." Tony protested.

"You are being examined by Ducky again. You've been attacked twice in forty-eight hours. I need to know if you're up to the physical demands of your duties."

"I'm fine, Gibbs," Tony said. "Fit as a fiddle."

Gibbs put a hand on the center of the middle of his back. "Fine, th –" He broke off when Tony flinched away from him. "Now, Tony. Into autopsy now."

"There's a body in there, Gibbs. Open."

"And you are not spending another minute working this case until you prove to me you're fit to do so."

"I am not being examined in the same room with my dead, partially autopsied friend!" His voice broke as he said that, and he screwed his eyes shut against the reaction that was threatening to unman him. He put his back to the side wall of the elevator and slid down to sit on the floor with his knees against his chest. "I can't do it, Gibbs. I can't." The elevator doors slid shut, and Gibbs hit the emergency stop again, for which Tony was grateful. He didn't need random technicians or agents walking in on his meltdown.

Gibbs squatted down. "I can see that, DiNozzo," Gibbs said in a softer voice. "We'll come up with something else."

"I'm sorry, Boss," Tony said. "I don't know what I did to make him think I wanted this."

"Tony!" Gibbs exclaimed, sounding almost angry. Tony hunched smaller. Gibbs had a right to be pissed. He'd screwed up big this time.

He looked up. "I just want to work the case, Boss," he said. "I won't go anywhere alone, I'll . . . I'll tell you what happened after we're done, but I want to get through this case first."

Gibbs was silent for a long moment, then he did something Tony would never have expected. He put a hand on the floor and, using it as a pivot point, turned to sit down next to Tony. They were nearly touching, and Gibbs leaned slightly and shoved at him with his shoulder. "No, you'll tell me now."

Tony shook his head. "The case, Boss –"

"Important though it is, the death of an NCIS agent doesn't automatically take precedence over an assault on an NCIS agent," Gibbs said.

Tony thumped his head back against the wall. It hurt, but he needed the pain to stave off the tears that were looming. This whole week sucked, and all he wanted to do was give Sheila and the girls the justice they deserved. Gabe was a good guy, and it just wasn't fair. Why did people like Gabe, with wives and children and people who loved them, why did they get killed while people like Tony just stumbled from disaster to disaster, doing no good for anyone?

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs said, and he put a gentle hand on the back of Tony's neck, squeezing the way he had a time or two when he knew Tony was hurting. It broke through Tony's control, and the tears started flowing. Gibbs pulled him close and Tony let him, embarrassed as hell but not sure what he could do about it. Then, abruptly, the elevator doors opened, and he looked up to see Abby and a guy in mechanic coveralls staring down at them. He brought his hands up to cover his face.

"I tried to tell him!" Abby said ruefully. "Tony, are you okay?"

"But it was stuck," the technician said. "I heard this elevator's always getting stuck, so I –"

"Sorry Gibbs," Abby said. She swung in, punched one of the buttons, and the elevator doors closed again. Tony felt a laugh start in his chest. How ridiculous it must have looked to that guy, two men sitting on the floor of the stuck elevator, one crying, the other comforting.

"Well, I might as well give up," he said, choking on laughter and tears at the same time. "Just tell everyone I let a guy fuck me. My reputation is screwed now anyway."

"Abby will see to it he keeps his mouth shut, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"Right, she probably will," Tony said. Abby had a strange power over people. "Well, we'd better get back to work."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, and Tony bit his lip. "You're going to have to press charges against this guy."

Tony shook his head. "I don't have any proof, Boss, and . . . and things were always pretty rough. I was looking . . ." He flushed and buried his face in his knees. "I was looking for that. Hard, fast, no strings. I'm really not sure when he decided it was more than that."


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs sighed, looking at Tony trying to hide himself in a fetal ball. From the sound of it, he'd been looking for something as different from the relationship he'd had with Jeanne Benoit as he could get. Hard, fast, no strings . . . and maybe just a little bit of punishment for his sins. He could strangle Jenny for her mishandling of DiNozzo. There were people who could have managed to spin a relationship like that out without getting involved. Tony was not one of them. There was a reason none of his relationships lasted more than a month, and a reason there tended to be so many. He couldn't let anyone stay that close, but he needed the closeness. And Jenny had set him up to hurt the only real innocent in the whole situation.

Unfortunately, DiNozzo's argument made sense. Bruises were no proof if the bastard could say that there had always been bruises after their encounters, and Tony couldn't deny it. Going up against a fellow law enforcement officer, they'd need better evidence than that, and they didn't have it. He'd very carefully not left any. "No calls?" he asked.

"I never gave him my cell number," DiNozzo said, lifting his head very slightly. "Neither of us wanted to be outed, so we kept electronic communication to a minimum. He'd leave notes under my windshield wipers, or he'd just show up late at night."

"Where are the notes?"

"I didn't keep them," DiNozzo said, shaking his head earnestly. "I mean, this wasn't like a real relationship . . . or at least I didn't think it was a real relationship. I tossed them."

"What if you needed to tell him something?"

Tony shrugged. "Mostly it was the other way around," he said, looking deeply embarrassed. "Maybe that's why he thinks he's got . . . I just kind of let things happen. I . . . I guess maybe I did give him the wrong idea."

"Tony, this is not your fault," Gibbs said, attempting to pass his conviction on to the younger man. This made the second time during this conversation that DiNozzo had openly blamed himself for his attacker's behavior. That had to stop.

"What does it matter?" Tony asked. "I can't prove anything, I have no evidence at all. I just kind of have to hope he gets tired of it."

"I could have a talk with him," Gibbs suggested. Or he could send Ziva. That was an appealing notion.

"Thanks, _Dad_ ," DiNozzo said sarcastically. "But he'd just turn that into another reason to call me a coward." He shook his head. "It will pass."

"I'm not worried about what he'll call you!" Gibbs said, exasperated. Could the man not see the danger he was in? "I'm worried about what he'll _do_ to you." Tony flinched back into a tighter ball, and Gibbs realized abruptly that he'd underestimated the fear the younger man was feeling. He hid it under sarcasm, humor and bravado, but he was scared. More scared than he'd been yesterday. He muted the anger in his tone, not wanting to add to DiNozzo's alarm. "How bad did it get this time?" he asked.

Tony shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. I was stupid, I let myself be caught out in a place where I was vulnerable. It won't happen again."

Gibbs scowled, but he thought he'd gotten everything he could out of him at the moment. "It had better not. You don't leave the building without telling me, okay?"

Tony nodded, and the look he shot him was grateful. "Thanks, Dad," he said, this time with less sarcasm. "Can we get back to work now?"

"Right. Let's go. I'll see what I can do to arrange a different space for Ducky to examine you."

Tony sighed, and Gibbs could tell he'd been hoping to avoid that. "Well, I'll go get that file in the meantime. I think I can manage to carry it without help."

"Okay." They got up, straightened themselves out, and Gibbs turned the elevator back on. The doors opened on the squad room, but the director was standing there, waiting. "Go, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, and Tony got out of there. "Do you need something, director?"

"Let's go to my office," she said.

Gibbs grimaced but he followed her. He glanced over and saw DiNozzo grabbing his spare shirt from the filing cabinet. Eschewing his usual technique of simply changing in the open, he hurried off in the direction of the head. Gibbs followed Jenny into her office, ignoring the curious looks of his other team members. "What is it, Jenny?" he asked when the door was shut.

"I went to find you and get an update on the Maitland case, but I couldn't locate you till I found Abby explaining to a very embarrassed maintenance worker that Tony had just lost a dear friend. I gather you were interrupted in your 'conference room'?" Gibbs nodded shortly. "Is this really about his losing a dear friend or is it about the other problem?"

"A little of both," Gibbs said, not planning to elaborate.

"I'll need a little more than that, Jethro."

Gibbs looked down with a grimace. "There was another attack on him today," he said.

Her eyes widened. "We're going to have to take action, Jethro. This can't –" He shook his head, and she broke off. "Why not?"

"Because I gather he wouldn't be able to truthfully say that bruises were uncommon after their encounters," Gibbs said, hoping she wouldn't let on that she knew this kind of detail. Her eyes widened. "We don't have the requisite level of evidence to pursue a case against a law enforcement professional."

"I see. How did this happen? I thought you were keeping him on a short leash."

"He went to interview Chuck Walther. I assumed Walther would be in the building, and it never occurred to Tony to let me know he was leaving because he was following my orders. Interviewing a colleague wouldn't normally require a second agent."

"Are you opening an investigation?" she asked.

"Not at this time," he replied, and she raised an eyebrow. "When the Maitland investigation is over, we'll deal with it." She pursed her lips, and he rolled his eyes. "DiNozzo knows not to leave without checking with me first."

"That makes things a little awkward, doesn't it?" she asked. "Your senior field agent has to ask permission before crossing the street?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yes, you get Tony to tell you this bastard's name and deal with it before it gets any worse."

"Tony wants to deal with his friend's murder first, and I can't blame him for that."

"I suppose not. I didn't know he was close to Agent Maitland."

Gibbs shrugged. "It was before Maitland married. They used to go to bars together, pick up girls. He helped Tony adjust to NCIS in ways I couldn't have."

"I see." She sighed. "I hate cases like this, but I'm glad it wasn't suicide."

"You spoke to Ducky, then?"

"Of course. Well, keep me in the loop."

"Yes director," he said, and he turned to go.

Just before he opened the door she added, "On both issues, Jethro."

He glanced back and nodded before going back down to the squad room. DiNozzo was already back, going through what looked like reams of financial data. Abby was bouncing in front of his desk. She saw him coming towards Ziva and Tony's desks and bounced up to him. "Gibbs, I have something for you, but you were . . . busy."

"What is it, Abby?"

"I have the second set of fingerprints, but I'm not sure they'll be much help. They belong to Mike Travers."

Gibbs blinked. "His fingerprints were on the glass?" he said to confirm what he'd heard. DiNozzo stood up slowly, brows knitting. She nodded. "That's interesting."

"Why?" McGee asked. "He was there to pick him up."

"Yes, but he told me he'd only been there a time or two and implied he'd never really been inside. DiNozzo, were they back when you were over there?"

"Yeah, Boss," DiNozzo said, and Gibbs noted that he'd doctored his face again.

"Anything on the computer?" Gibbs asked McGee.

"Nothing significant so far, but it was used by everyone in the family, so I doubt he'd leave anything sensitive on it."

"Ziva?"

"No one has noticed anything out of the ordinary. He has been his usual gregarious self."

"Except," DiNozzo put in, "for last night. Chuck said that he sort of 'wound down' while he was going through this file. He thought he was just getting tired, but I know Gabe. When he gets tired, he gets sillier, not quieter. I think there's something in here that disturbed him." He looked down at the pages on his desk. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure I'd recognize it if it put on a tutu and danced to 'The Teddy Bear Picnic.'"

"What?" Ziva said, her expression puzzled. "Teddy bears?"

"It's a –" DiNozzo started, but he broke off, shaking his head. "You've never heard 'The Teddy Bear Picnic'? Assimilate already!"

Gibbs reached out and gave DiNozzo a light tap on the back of the head, above where he judged the bumps had to be. The look DiNozzo shot him was both surprised and grateful, and Gibbs knew he'd read him right. Even under these circumstances, DiNozzo didn't want him going all soft on him. He started barking orders. "DiNozzo, find someone who understands this accounting. McGee, see if Abby can help you. If he did have something sensitive on that machine, he'd have buried it. Look deeper. Ziva, see if you can make any sense of that stuff Tony's working on." With that he strode off to finish with Maitland's desk. Walther observed his approach with a bit of reserve, which Gibbs couldn't find surprising. If another agent was looking through one of his people's desks, he knew he'd be less than receptive to it.

"So, what are we looking at here, Gibbs?" Walther asked.

"Murder," Gibbs replied. Both Travers and Mayfield were away from their desks. He sat down at Maitland's desk. "Was there anyone in particular you guys had identified for your embezzler?"

"There are two or three people who could be it. You don't think one of them –"

"Did Maitland know them personally?"

"No, we haven't even approached them yet. So far it's still numbers on a page. The lead we had early in the week seems to have petered out."

"So, how close are the group of you?" Gibbs asked. "I mean, do you guys do parties at each other's houses, or –"

"Gibbs, what are you aiming at?" Walther asked, standing up.

"I have to eliminate every possibility," Gibbs said. "You know that."

Chuck pursed his lips. "No, we haven't really been that kind of team. God knows Gabe tried, but Travers can't stand the whole happy family thing after his divorce, and Mayfield isn't much of a joiner. I've been to dinner over there a few times with my wife, but it's been a few months since the last time. Why?"

"How has Travers seemed today?"

"How would you be after finding one of your teammates dead in his house?" Chuck asked. "He's convinced it was suicide, and he . . ." Chuck trailed off. "That's odd, I hadn't thought . . ."

"What?"

Chuck shook his head. "I'm sure it's not important." Gibbs just raised his eyebrows and maintained silence. After a moment, Chuck made a face. "I thought it was weird last night, Gabe said he was too tired to feel safe driving home, and he asked Mike to give him a ride."

"What's weird about that?"

"They always rubbed the wrong way, Gibbs. You know how it can be. Like the way DiNozzo and Todd were most of the time. Sparks flying, and not in a good way."

Gibbs didn't see Kate and DiNozzo's relationship that way, though Kate hadn't always been able to see through DiNozzo's veneer. "Go on."

"Well, I just was surprised that he'd ask Mike for a ride, but it didn't seem important. I think he said something about it being more on his way home than mine or Mayfield's."

"That true?"

"I guess. Kind of six of one, half a dozen of the other, really." Walther shook his head. "Gibbs, it can't be what you're thinking. It just can't."

There wasn't a lot Gibbs could say. "I have to eliminate everything, Chuck," he said.

"Yeah, Jethro, I know." He shook his head. "I know."

* * *

McGee had been downstairs with Abby for awhile when something occurred to Tony suddenly. He got up and started towards the elevator.

"Where are you going, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"I've got an idea for something Abby and McGee should be looking for. I'll be back in a minute." He couldn't believe it had taken him this long to remember. The elevator doors opened, and he went through the door to Abby's lab. Before he could see them, he could hear them, arguing in geekspeak. They got so amazingly passionate about things that no one else understood. It amused him sometimes. He listened for a minute, then walked all the way in. "I've been listening to the two of you for five minutes, and I still haven't heard a word I understand."

"Last I checked you knew the words 'and' and 'the,' Tony," Abby said mischievously while McGee just huffed irritably. "What's up?"

"I just remembered something. Gabe used to be sort of a compulsive journal writer."

"There weren't any journals at his place," McGee said. "I didn't see anything like that."

"He didn't write by hand, McGeek," Tony said. McGee looked startled. "I know, most of the people I've known who kept diaries write by hand, but he didn't. Every night, he sit down at his computer and set down his thoughts or the events of the day or his plans, all sorts of stuff. I don't know if he still did, but if he did, I'd bet it's on this machine."

McGee nodded slowly. "And since it sounds kind of like you've read it, and I know you, I'll bet he's more careful now about hiding it."

"What do you mean by that, Probie?" Tony demanded.

"Oh, I'm sure you never teased him about stuff he said in there," McGee said sourly.

"Maybe," Tony said with a grin. "One time I peeked over his shoulder while he was writing, and it looked like something out of _Penthouse_ 'Forums.'" Tony glanced aside at Abby and decided to have a little fun. "That's where guys write in things that supposedly actually happened, but it's always this insane fantasy stuff. I'm sure a guy like you who reads _Redbook_ doesn't know anything about that, but it gets pretty –"

"I know what it is, Tony," McGee snapped.

Tony grinned at getting the rise he'd been dangling for. "Anyway, he also wrote about work, and I think it might be important."

"We'll keep an eye out for it, Tony sir!" Abby said, saluting.

Tony returned the salute and headed back upstairs. The accountant had shown up in his absence, but she was shaking her head. "Unless you know what I'm looking for, I'm not going to be able to find anything unless the figures are wrong, and that could take hours." She looked at the pages. "Days even."

"There's got to be some way to –" His phone rang. "DiNozzo."

"Tony, I found it," McGee announced. "I started thinking about some of the programs I've run across that . . ." Here he descended into geekspeak. Tony listened for a moment, trying to understand, but then he shook his head impatiently and interrupted.

"McGee, the point is you found it. Is there anything useful in it?"

"I'm e-mailing the last entry to you now. I'll bet it will help you with that accounting data."

"Please." Tony sat down and called up his e-mail. He scanned the entry and blinked. "Come here –" He looked up at her, suddenly realizing he didn't know her. "What's your name?"

"Irene."

"Irene, come here and look at this. With this information, can you locate the data you need?"

She looked it over and looked up at him. "Is this for real?"

"Just tell me if you can do it," he said.

"It's pretty specific. It might take a little time, but yes, if it's there, I can find it."

McGee came hurrying in with some printouts. "I found the business license and the incorporation papers online." Tony took them and looked at them. He handed them to Irene who pursed her lips and started looking through the documents.

"I'd better call Gibbs."

* * *

Mike Travers had accompanied Gibbs into the interview room without any argument. Chuck Walther had followed, pulling out his cell phone, and Gibbs suspected that he'd have both him and Jenny in the observation room before long.

"So, Agent Travers, I asked you earlier if you'd been to Agent Maitland's house before." Travers nodded. "What did you say?"

"I said once or twice, not more."

"But you took him home last night?"

"I did."

"You didn't mention that."

"I didn't . . . I didn't think about it. He was very tired last night, I dropped him off. Nothing really happened."

"You dropped him off?" Gibbs repeated.

"Well, yeah."

"So, you didn't get out of the car?" Gibbs asked.

Travers took a deep breath, and his eyes gave evidence of fast thinking. "I saw him inside, you know. Just to make sure, since he'd wanted a ride home because he didn't feel safe driving. I wanted to be certain he was okay."

"Did you tuck him in?" Gibbs asked, allowing a little skepticism to bleed into his voice.

Travers' brows knit. "I'm sorry? I went in with him, I left him in the living room. I went home."

"Did anything else happen while you were inside?"

"Like what?" Travers asked. "Are you implying something?"

"I didn't imply anything," Gibbs said. "I asked a question."

"I took him inside, I left. Nothing else."

"Then would you care to tell me why your fingerprints would be on a glass found in his sink?"

"Oh . . . um . . . I suppose we had a drink," Travers said, and Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"So, you had a drink with Agent Maitland . . . at what time?"

"I don't know, about two in the morning."

"And then what?"

"And then I left."

"And how did he seem when you left?"

"Fine, I guess. He didn't seem suicidal if that's what you mean."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "All right. Did you see anything suspicious? Anyone around that raised any red flags?"

Travers shook his head. "No, I just drove home."

"And what time did you get there?"

"Around two-thirty," Travers said.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this when we spoke at the house?"

Travers ran his hands through his hair nervously. "I don't know. I didn't think, I guess. I was just so freaked out about him killing himself." He looked down at the table. After a moment he looked up. "You don't think it was suicide, do you, though?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, it wasn't," he said. "Do you have anything you'd like to add?" Travers shook his head, and Gibbs gazed calmly at him for several moments, then said, "Then that's all."

"That's all?" Travers repeated. "You brought me into interrogation and that's all?"

"Is there something else I should be asking you?" Gibbs asked.

"I found my teammate dead in his own garage, you shouldn't be asking me anything!" He rose and stormed out of the room. Gibbs stayed where he was, considering all that had been said . . . and all that had not been said.

A moment later Walther and Jenny came in. He looked up to see Walther looking deeply disturbed. "I still don't believe it," he said.

"There's nothing to believe, Chuck," Gibbs replied. "I'm just asking questions. I'm not sure why he didn't tell me that when I talked to him earlier, but I had to get the answers."

"Has it occurred to you that he may feel guilty for not preventing this?"

Gibbs nodded, shrugging, and left the interrogation room. He wasn't going into detail about his thinking with the man's supervisor. There were too many possibilities open at this point, but the fact was, Travers had not been forthcoming during the earlier interview, and that didn't look good.

The elevator doors opened and DiNozzo walked out. "Boss, your phone's off."

"I know," Gibbs said simply.

"I remembered something about Gabe," DiNozzo said, backing into the elevator. "He keeps a journal, and McGee found it on his computer."

"Are you telling me he made an entry last night?"

DiNozzo nodded. "He did. At quarter to three this morning. He wrote about a confrontation with a co-worker whom he suspected of wrongdoing, and his intention of going to their supervisor with his concerns today."

"Does he name the co-worker?"

"No, but who else could it be, Boss?"

The elevator doors shut. "It could be the tooth fairy, DiNozzo. Ducky's waiting for you in Abby's lab."

"Boss, I don't need –"

Gibbs took off as the elevator doors opened. He stopped by Ziva's desk and spoke in a low voice. "Take McGee and go out to Travers' place and find out if there's anyone who can confirm when he got home. Be discreet."

She looked at him with her eyes wide. "Yes, Gibbs."

He turned to the woman seated at DiNozzo's desk. "You are?"

"Irene Jacobs," she said.

"She's the accounting expert Jameson sent over."

"Work at the desk on the other side of McGee's," he ordered, and the woman, looking startled, moved to comply. "DiNozzo, why are you still here?"

"Boss, I don't need –" DiNozzo started again.

"With me, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped. McGee and Ziva looked back curiously as they headed for the other elevator. Someone was emerging from the lab elevator as they reached it, and Gibbs held the door open for Tony.

"Boss –"

"In, DiNozzo. That isn't a suggestion."

Tony got onto the elevator, and Gibbs joined him, deciding that this was not a time to leave the young man to his own devices. If he did, he'd hear from Ducky in fifteen minutes or so that Tony had failed to show up, and then he'd find Tony in some perfectly plausible pursuit, looking up files or chatting with some girl who was Gabe's very good friend. No, he was seeing this through.

Tony marched mutinously into the forensics lab where the windows to the street outside were covered with dozens of sheets of white paper taped in place. Abby looked around, gave Tony a sympathetic grin and hurried out without speaking. Ducky gave Tony a worried look. "All right, Anthony, please, remove your garments again."

"I'm fine," Tony said to Gibbs, stalling. "It's not that much different from yesterday."

Gibbs just crossed his arms and waited. Ducky patted Tony on the shoulder. "Anthony, it will go much faster if you simply go along with it."

Tony scowled, but he peeled out of his shirt. The bruises on his arms were going Technicolor, and he had a couple on his ribs and belly that Gibbs hadn't seen before. Tony kicked off his shoes and pulled his jeans off, revealing more bruises on his thighs and back. Gibbs stared at a bruise revealed on Tony's lower back. He glanced at Ducky and gestured with his eyes towards the large rectangular mark that disappeared beneath the boxers.

"That's new," Ducky said. "Anthony, there is a . . . forgive me, dear boy. He pulled the waistband of the boxers out and peered down. Gibbs could see that the bruise kept going, and he wanted to know what the hell had caused it.

Tony flushed, and reached around. He touched the bruise, and the movement of his arm told Gibbs what the source was a moment before Tony spoke. "Oh, that must be from my Sig. I had it back there earlier."

Gibbs ground his teeth, contemplating the force Gigantor had to have used to cause that serious a bruise. Ducky was still looking down DiNozzo's drawers. "I see there are fresh bruises on your left buttock," he said informatively.

Tony's shoulders tensed. "He had a good grope," he said angrily. "I was there."

Ducky released the waistband of Tony's boxers and put a gentle hand on his arm as he walked around to the front. "Yes, well, I wasn't, and you're not being very communicative."

Tony's shoulders drooped, and he shook his head. "I'd just rather not think about it, Ducky," he said. "It's embarrassing."

"I know, dear boy, most victims of sexual assault feel that way."

Tony's back muscles all tensed up. "Sexual . . ." he said, his voice faltering. "No."

Ducky's eyes met Gibbs' and they shared a moment of dismay. Gibbs cleared his throat. "What did you think this was?" he asked.

Tony shrugged, his muscles still very tense. "A difference of opinion."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "A difference of opinion with bruises," he said.

"Well, differences of opinion with Brody usually end up with –" He cut off sharply and went pale from his hairline to his toes, making the bruises stand out in stark relief against the whiter skin. Then he flushed.

"Brody?" Gibbs said, and Tony turned around with wide, staring eyes, appalled. "And he's beat up on you before? Do I take it you mean before the black eye?"

DiNozzo shook his head. "No, I didn't mean that how it sounded," he said defensively. "Are we done? Have you gotten a good enough look at me, or do you want me to drop everything?"

"Put your clothes back on, my boy. I'll check your head once you've done that."

DiNozzo grabbed his pants and pulled them on immediately. "Gibbs has already smacked me once, and I survived the experience, so I'm sure my head is fine." Ducky shot Gibbs a reproving look, but Gibbs recalled Tony's reaction and couldn't feel bad about it.

"Does it hurt?"

Tony pulled his shirt on. "Not unless I touch it." He allowed Ducky to guide him to a chair and winced as the medical examiner began to run his fingers over his scalp. "Or someone else touches it," he grumbled, and Gibbs quirked a grin that quickly faded as he considered the source of the injuries. An unusually large man named Brody. That should narrow things down considerably.

"Gibbs, you can't just go after him," Tony said.

"That his first or last name, DiNozzo?"

Tony closed his eyes. Gibbs could see his dismay at his own indiscretion. "First," Tony said, apparently giving up on secrecy. "Brody Harris. Detective Lieutenant Brody Harris. Third district."

"Detective Lieutenant?" Gibbs repeated, his eyebrows going up.

"You see why I think it's a bad idea to pursue it?" Tony said.

Gibbs took a deep breath to bring his anger under control. "I understand your reasoning," he said. "But I don't agree with it."

"Besides, if he'll do this to you, a fellow law enforcement officer and a full grown adult male, what will he do to those who are less protected?" Ducky asked.

"I checked his record. He doesn't have any complaints like that at all," Tony said, and Gibbs had to control another surge of anger.

"But you wondered," he said, and Tony shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Look, that aside, I can't stand by while one of my agents is stalked, beaten and sexually assaulted."

"I'm not being beaten, Gibbs," DiNozzo protested.

"There's a bruise in the center of your back that suggests otherwise, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "If this was happening to Abby or McGee or Ziva, you would shoot me if I didn't take action."

"Well, it isn't Abby or McGee or Ziva," Tony snapped.

"No, Tony, it's you," Gibbs said, giving him a stern look . The younger man turned away. "And frankly, I don't want to get shot by Ziva."

"Why would Ziva shoot you?" Abby asked from the doorway. "My eyes are closed, but can I come back in?"

"We're done in here, Abby," Gibbs said.

"Is Tony done being naked?"

"I wasn't naked," Tony said. "I'm going back to work. Unless you're going to declare me unfit," he added, asking Ducky.

"No, you're fit," Ducky said slowly, as if he had reservations. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at Ducky, who shook his head slightly. Gibbs nodded to Tony who left hastily.

Once Tony was gone, Abby said, "I love it when you guys do that, the whole, we've known each other forever and can talk without speaking thing. It's cool."

"Thanks, Abby," Gibbs said, leading the way out of the lab with Ducky behind him.

"But wait, why would Ziva shoot you?" she called as they left, and Gibbs shook his head.

"Not now, Abby."

Once the elevator doors were closed, Ducky turned to him. "Jethro, I'm very concerned about his mental and emotional state. This reaction that he's not worth defending is very worrisome. I'm terribly afraid that it relates back to that unfortunate business with La Granouille and Jeanne Benoit."

"Yeah, Duck, I think it does," Gibbs said. It related to more than that. Gibbs knew that Tony's early life had been pretty haphazard and borderline abusive. Things he'd said, little facts he'd let drop, rarely anything that had much meaning alone, but taken together they painted a very unhappy picture. For the most part, Tony's stories about himself started with college. Gibbs had heard more about McGee's childhood – even more about Ziva's – than he'd ever heard about Tony's, and he'd known him considerably longer.

"I just wanted to register that concern, Jethro. The boy takes guilt on himself much too readily, and I think he may be acting that out in this relationship with . . . what was the name? Brody?"

"Brody Harris," Gibbs said. "Is that all, Ducky?"

"Yes."

Gibbs waited while Ducky left the elevator on his level, then hit the button for the squad room. He went to his desk and called up the police files that Ziva had dug up for him, looking up the bastard. Tony was right, not a sign of complaints from anyone regarding abuse. He made a quick phone call, however. That being satisfactorily answered, he waited ten minutes, then rose. "I'm going out for coffee," he told DiNozzo. "You call me if you have anything, and you don't leave. Got that?"

"Yes Boss," DiNozzo said, keeping his head down.

Gibbs walked out of the Navy Yard and over to the coffee cart that set up there every morning. After buying a cup, he sat down on a bench and waited. It was only a few minutes later when a man about his age in a casual suit walked up with his own cup of coffee and sat down. "What's up, Gibbs?" he asked.

"I've got a question for you, Fornell, and I'd rather it remained between us for the moment."

"I can do that. Shoot."

"Do you know a detective in the third district named Brody Harris?"

Fornell raised his eyebrows. "I've heard the name," he said.

"What have you heard?"

"Depends on who you ask, and what you ask about," Fornell replied.

"Is he a clean cop?"

"I've never heard otherwise," Fornell said with a shrug, and Gibbs tilted his head.

"That's not exactly a ringing endorsement."

"I've met him a couple of times. Big guy, kind of intense. I've heard he's a good detective."

"Have you heard anything to his detriment?"

Fornell gave him a suspicious look. "I've heard that he's a little hard on trainees that come his way. Nothing too specific, and no overt complaints. You know how it can be. Nebulous feelings that you can't quite pin down?"

Gibbs nodded. "Can you find out if there's anything more specific floating around out there?"

"Why?" Gibbs gave Fornell a look meant to remind him of their long history. Fornell waved a conciliatory hand. "I mean, sure, I'll do it, but can you tell me what you suspect?"

Gibbs pursed his lips. "Not right now," he said. "I'll owe you one."

"Is this a personal favor or a professional one?" Fornell asked.

"For now let's call it personal," Gibbs said.

Fornell's brows went up again. "I'm already in your debt there, Gibbs," the FBI agent said, and Gibbs shrugged. "Can I call you at work on this?"

"Sure, but . . ." Gibbs grimaced. "Don't leave a message with anyone. Talk to me directly."

"No problem," Fornell said. Gibbs stood up and so did Fornell. As Gibbs started back towards the gate to the Navy Yard, Fornell caught his arm. "You will tell me what this is about later?"

"Probably." Fornell gave him an irritable look. He just shrugged again and continued on his way.

When he entered the squad room, Tony gave him the message that the director wanted to see him. He still seemed very subdued, but Gibbs didn't know what he could do about that. He went in to see Jenny. "If we keep this up, people are going to talk," he said, shutting the door behind him.

"Any updates?"

"Nothing specific at the moment on the Maitland murder."

"And on Tony's situation?"

"I've got a name and I'm checking it out. I just had a talk with Fornell. Keeping it low on the radar right now."

"Good," she said. "What's the name?"

"Brody Harris," he replied. "A detective lieutenant in the third district."

"I see." She gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Would you have told me if I hadn't asked?" she asked finally.

"I thought I taught you better than that," Gibbs said, turning and heading towards the door.

"What do you mean?"

"Rule forty-three." She raised her eyebrows. "Never ask a question you don't want to know the answer to." He opened the door and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for consent issues in this chapter, either dubious consent or straight up rape, depends on personal definitions. Oh, and wardrobe abuse - which we all know would matter immensely to Tony.

Tony wasn't sure whether Gibbs had left to work on the case or to work on Brody Harris. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he wanted to know which. He wanted to know what Gabe had suspected Mike Travers of. No matter what Gibbs said, it wasn't the tooth fairy that Gabe had confronted, it was the man who drove him home. The man he'd described as 'the person pessimists avoid because he's too negative.' Tony knew next to nothing about Travers, but before the day was out he was going to know everything worth knowing.

He glanced at his computer clock and revised that a bit. Before tomorrow was out, he would know everything worth knowing. Three hours didn't give him much time to discover the man's entire history. It gave him plenty of time to Google him, however, and he found some very entertaining references to him on several people's Facebook pages.

The elevator chimed and he looked up automatically to see who it was. Sheila emerged, looking frantic. Tony leapt up and hurried over to her, ignoring the way his bruises twinged. "Sheila, what is it? Are you okay?"

"They won't let us go home," she said tearfully. "I've taken the girls to Ross and Sharon, but I . . . why won't they let us go home?"

Tony put an arm around her and took her over to Ziva's desk where he sat her down. "Sheila, he died there." She gazed at him without comprehension. "It's a crime scene," he added gently.

"Why would he do this? What possible reason could he have to do this to us?"

Tony knelt in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Sheila, look at me." She turned her eyes towards him, but she didn't really seem to see him. "Sheila?" He took a deep breath. "Sheila, I'm wearing make up."

She blinked at him. "What?" Her eyes refocused and she said, "You are. Tony?"

He shrugged. "I've got some bruises. I didn't want to talk about them, so I covered them up."

"How manly," she said with an attempt at a smile. "You should blend it better. Maybe add some green to cut the red."

"Right, I'll do that," he replied. "Sheila, Gabe didn't kill himself. We know that for sure."

"Then . . ." She shook her head. "Then he was murdered?"

Tony nodded. "And we're going to find out who did it. Do you feel up to answering a few questions?"

"I guess," she said. "Tony, who would want to murder Gabe? Everyone liked him."

An unexpected voice made Tony look up to see Gibbs standing on the other side of the desk. "That's what we're trying to find out." Tony stood up and took a step back to let his boss take over. "Mrs. Maitland, I'm Special Agent Gibbs." He held out his hand and she shook it.

Tears still wet on her face, she smiled up at him. "I'm sure you will, Agent Gibbs. Gabe always said you were the best. He was jealous that Tony got to work with you."

"He was a good man, Mrs. Maitland," Gibbs said. "Now, where are your children?"

"Staying with friends," she said. "I didn't . . . it never occurred to me that we wouldn't be able to go home."

Tony went back to his own desk and let Gibbs handle the interview. He was too close to do it himself. He'd spent too many evenings teasing Gabe about how family life had changed him while watching a game on TV, listening to Sheila cheer the Green Bay Packers on, misguided as she was. He retreated to his desk and sat down, listening as Gibbs skillfully got Sheila to open up and talk.

"No, we didn't have much contact with his teammates," Sheila said. "Very different from Agent Howard's team where we had team picnics and outings to the state fair."

"You did meet the others, though?"

"Of course," Sheila said. "Chuck came over with Linda a few times, and we ran into Mike and Terry at a bar once."

"Is Terry his ex-wife?"

"No, his girlfriend. Mike wasn't very welcoming, so we moved on after a few minutes. I've only seen Agent Mayfield in the office."

"I see. So, did your husband talk to you about work much?"

She shook her head. "Not much. If something really upset him, he'd sometimes talk about it, but mostly we didn't talk about work. I mean, I didn't want to spend my evenings talking about obnoxious adolescents, and he didn't want to spend his talking about misbehaving seaman and marines."

"High school teacher?"

"Junior high," she said. "Gabe always says that I get them when they're at their most hormonally challenged." She paused, looking stricken. "Gabe always said . . . I can't believe he's dead."

"I know," he said. "I understand."

She looked at him. "Do you?" she asked. "Gabe told me that he hates – hated – saying that to people when it wasn't true."

Gibbs nodded. "I do, too," he said. "But I do understand."

Sheila was silent for a moment. "Then I'm very sorry," she said. "Do you have any more questions? I'd really like to get back to the girls now that I'm a little less hysterical."

"No, if I have anything else, I'll call you later. Go to your daughters."

Tony got up. "I'll walk you down," he said, giving Gibbs a look to reassure him that he wasn't leaving the yard.

"Thank you, Tony."

He saw her to her car and returned to his desk. By the time he got there, Ziva and McGee were back and reporting. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head to indicate that he had learned nothing more. "So, his alibi checks out," Ziva said. "His neighbor was playing World of Warcraft in his front room while watching _War of the Worlds_ . . . I do not understand this country . . . and he saw him pull in at around two-thirty in the morning."

"He could still have gotten back in time to kill him at four in the morning," Tony said.

"Ah, but that neighbor did not go to bed until past five, and he says he would have noticed if Travers had left because the headlights shine right in his window when he pulls in and out."

"So Travers is off the hook," Gibbs said.

"Not altogether," Agent Jacobs interjected, and they all turned to her in surprise. Tony had completely forgotten the woman was there. "He is very definitely involved in the embezzling scheme, or at least in covering it up. I suspect, though, that if you were to look at records of his computer access, they would correspond with some of these suspect transactions."

"But that's a Navy computer system. Why would he have access?" Tony asked.

"Last year we worked together on a task force to try and plug some of the accounting gaps the Navy had in its system. From what I'm seeing here, it looks like Mike created some. Also, I know he probably still has access because I do. I just checked on the off chance, and my login still works. I'll have to let them know so they can fix that."

"McGee, check the computer logs," Gibbs said. "Ziva, did you hear anything about a girlfriend named Terry?"

"Terry Ferguson. She works at Morgan Stanley."

"That would make a great combination, Boss," Tony said. "He steals the money, she makes it disappear."

"Is what you have enough for a warrant?" Gibbs asked Irene.

"For his financial records, certainly. For hers, not so much, unless . . ." She went and sat back down, tapping away at the keyboard. "Aha! It looks like she provided some of the references on this dummy corporation's contract with the Navy. You can subpoena her records, too."

"On it, Boss," Tony said, picking up the phone and calling Legal.

"McGee, get those logs together for me. Ziva –" Gibbs broke off. "Agent Jacobs, are you a field agent?"

Irene blinked. "Yes, I am," she said.

"Ziva, take Agent Jacobs and go pick up Miss Ferguson."

"My gear is at my desk," Jacobs said, seeming startled by the order. After a brief moment of confusion, she walked off towards her desk, and Ziva followed her away.

Tony watched them go and cleared his throat. "Boss, what about me?"

Gibbs turned to him and looked at him for a moment. "Sit down before you fall down," he said, then he turned and strode away towards Walther's team's bullpen.

Tony glanced over at McGee. "I don't look that bad, do I, Probie?"

McGee looked over at him. "Truth?" he asked.

"Yeah, McGee, truth."

McGee grimaced sympathetically. "Sit down before you fall down."

Tony sank into his chair. He felt fine. Really. Except for the aches in his shoulders and the way his arms felt like lead. There was a faint throbbing in the bumps on his head, and he was beginning to feel a little tired. But he felt fine, really. He lowered his head to his desk.

"Why don't you go home, Tony?"

"I'm not allowed," Tony said to his desk.

"Not allowed?"

"Nope. Be glad he didn't tell you to take me home like he told you to take Abby."

McGee was silent for a moment. "Tony, what's going –"

Tony sat up and held up a finger. "Not another word, Probie," he snapped, but then he winced, kind of spoiling the effect. Moving so quickly made everything hurt, and his head protested vehemently. "I don't want to talk about it." He put his head down again. The tapping of McGee's keys gradually lulled him to sleep.

* * *

_Tony unlocked his door and walked into the apartment. He hung up his jacket and put his pack on the floor. All he wanted right now was a beer and a movie where the bad guys got their lumps and the good guy got the girl. Something where good and evil were clearly defined. He swung through the kitchen and grabbed a beer, but as he came out the door into the living room, he felt arms encircle him from behind, reaching for his belt. "Surprise," Brody murmured in his ear._

_"Brody, not tonight," he said, startled that he hadn't realized the other man was present. "I am so not in the mood." Brody had been getting damned pushy lately, and Tony just wanted to vegetate tonight._

_Brody whipped Tony's belt out of his pants and dropped it on the floor. "Oh, I can get you in the mood, Tony."_

_Tony put his hands on Brody's, trying to stop him from unbuttoning his pants. "I don't want to, Brody. It's been a rotten day and I just –"_

_"I can make it better," Brody said, and he nibbled delicately on Tony's ear. "Come on, just a little fun."_

_"Brody, no," Tony said, leaning away and trying to get out of the circle of Brody's arms. The other man didn't release him, and he felt his zipper going down. "Brody, I said no."_

_"Come on, Tony, make me happy. Then we can do whatever you want."_

_"Brody, let me go, I said –"_

_The arms grew suddenly hard, and Tony felt a flutter of unease. "I want this, Tony, I need this. Give it to me." He started walking them towards Tony's bedroom, and Tony shook his head._

_"Brody . . ." he protested, but Brody wasn't listening. He basically dragged Tony into his own bedroom and then, grabbing his waist, turned him around. "Brody, I –"_

_Brody grabbed his neck in both hands and took advantage of the mouth opened to speak to kiss him intensely. Tony put his hands on Brody's shoulders and pushed, but Brody didn't even budge. The other man was already all but naked, only wearing the bathrobe he kept leaving here. His hands dropped down to Tony's waist again and rid him of his pants._

_Tony was getting the picture. Brody wasn't interested in what mood he was in. He made another attempt when Brody broke the kiss to nibble on his ear. "Brody, I don't want to do this tonight."_

_Brody grabbed his wrists and pulled Tony's hands off his shoulders. He forced them together behind him and held them in one hand. Tony remembered occasions when this had happened before when he hadn't minded so much, but he opened his mouth to object. Brody cupped his free hand over it, and Tony stared up at him in alarm. "Shut up, Tony," he said harshly, and then he started undoing shirt buttons._

_Short of fighting him off, which was more effort than Tony felt able to put in right now, he wasn't going to be able to persuade Brody to back down. He just stopped protesting. Brody took the shirt off him, getting a little impatient and ripping some of the buttons off._

_"Brody, that was an expensive –"_

_"Fuck the shirt!" Brody snarled, and, releasing Tony's hands, he pushed him backwards onto the bed. Tony's butt landed against the footboard, and he let out a yelp of pain. Then Brody was on him, dragging him up the bed, his hands under Tony's butt, kneading and squeezing. Maybe if he didn't do anything, Brody would get the hint. He lay unmoving under the other man's roving hands and mouth. He wasn't really any rougher than usual, but it felt that way with Tony not joining in. And Brody didn't seem to care much that Tony wasn't responding to his advances. He flipped him over, yanked his boxers down and spread Tony's butt cheeks wide, pulling him up onto his knees to facilitate access._

_Tony shook his head. "Brody, come on, I –" His voice cut off on a startled gasp as Brody shoved a finger into him without lubrication. "No way man, you are not going to do this dry," he said angrily, shifting to push away. Brody grabbed his hips and held on, his grip hard and bruising. Tony felt another flutter of dismay. "Brody, not dry," he repeated._

_"Then shut up," Brody growled. He bit down on Tony's shoulder, and Tony clenched his teeth. It hurt more than it should, but he wasn't sure that Brody wouldn't go through with the implied threat, so he didn't say anything else. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Brody warming the lube in his hands. Brody took less time preparing him than he usually did, and when he thrust in . . ._

* * *

Tony sat up sharply, his hands flat on the desk. He was breathing hard, and he could feel his hands shaking. "Tony?" McGee said, and Tony realized abruptly exactly where he was and that he wasn't alone. Ziva was staring at him from across the way, and Gibbs . . . Gibbs had that mildly quizzical look that meant he was preparing one zinger of a question.

"I have to hit the head," he said, hoping his voice sounded somewhere near normal, and he got up, stumbling a little on legs that weren't sure they were ready to go from sleep to walking quite so quickly. Rigidly controlling himself, he hurried out of the bullpen, thankful that it was now so late that they were the only team present. He fled to the safety of one of the stalls where he closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool granite. Why the hell would he be dreaming of that at work? It was an unpleasant incident, but it was months ago, and . . .

At the time Tony had believed that if he'd been more emphatic, if he'd just struggled harder, he could have gotten away. It had somehow made his surrender more bearable to think that he could have stopped Brody if he'd wanted to badly enough. He couldn't be sure, now, looking back on that night and several other nights when he'd refused and Brody had forced the issue, that Brody wouldn't have stopped no matter what he did. He'd certainly wanted to have sex the night he'd punched Tony for 'cheating' on him with Abby.

Tony rubbed his face with his hands. He couldn't think about this now. He had to get back to work. God knew what had happened while he slept. It was past three in the morning, so the fact that no one had left yet indicated that the case was still hot. He stood up and walked out of the stall. Pulling off a few paper towels, he wet them and washed his face. The make up came off, and he examined the bruises on his chin. He could see Brody's thumb and fingers imprinted on his skin.

Morbid curiosity overtook him. It was past three but not yet four, so the likelihood was that there wasn't much of anyone else in this part of the building. He pulled his shirt off and took a look at the bruises on his arms. He hadn't wanted to look when he'd taken his shower that morning. His upper arms showed clear, overlapping handprints. His wrists were practically solid bruise, purple, green and yellow. The bite on his neck was clarifying into a purple ring of teeth surrounded by greenish skin.

The door behind him opened, and he froze. In the mirror he could see McGee standing in the doorway, eyes wide and appalled. "Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't – I wasn't –"

Tony started pulling his shirt back on. "Close the door, Probie," he said harshly.

"Oh . . . um . . . right." McGee came the rest of the way in and closed the door. "God, Tony, Gibbs said you had a stalker, but I thought it was like Abby."

"What do you mean, like Abby?" Tony asked.

"I didn't think anyone was actually hurting you. I mean, Gibbs seems so calm."

Tony snorted. "Gibbs has a good game face, Probie. I thought you knew that."

"I guess . . ." McGee was looking troubled. "What did he do to you?"

"If I wanted to talk about it, McGee, you'd already know," Tony said. He was regaining his equilibrium. "Aren't you going to use the facilities? Or did you just come in here to admire my physique?"

"Tony, you can't just brush this off. You look like someone's been –"

The door opened behind McGee, and Tony looked in the mirror to see Gibbs staring at McGee. "I thought I told you to go home."

"You did. I am . . . I mean I had to . . . and I just . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"I'm leaving," Tony said. Gibbs backed up out of the way, and Tony left McGee staring after him. He hoped McGee would start asking Gibbs questions and draw his attention, but no such luck. Gibbs followed him. "Where are we on the case, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Actually, I was just about to go in and have a chat with Theresa Ferguson."

"In the head?"

Gibbs shrugged. "After I checked on you. Bad dream?" Tony glowered at him and started to speak, but Gibbs cut him off. "That's what I thought. How are you feeling?"

"Like I want a large Vicodin cocktail," Tony said with a sigh.

"I'm not surprised."

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

"So you can snore a confession out of her?" Gibbs asked. "Effective as that might be, I'm going to say no."

Tony concealed the hurt he felt at being dismissed like that and said, "If you want to snore a confession out of someone, try Ziva. She snores like a drunken sailor with emphysema."

"I heard her, too, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "I'd rather you observed on this one."

Tony nodded and went into the observation room where he found Ziva already waiting. "Anything interesting happen while I was asleep?"

"Travers confessed to his part in the embezzlement and fraud, but he says he did not kill anyone."

"The more I think about it, the more I don't buy him as the killer anyway," Tony said. "It was pretty clumsy for a trained investigator to leave those glasses in the sink for one thing." Ziva nodded.

"Finally!" Terry Ferguson said as Gibbs entered interrogation. She was a dark-haired woman, dressed in expensive jeans and a designer top even at three in the morning. Her make-up was perfect, her hair was styled. This was a woman to whom appearance was important. "I've been waiting here for three hours,"

"Have you?" Gibbs asked mildly as he sat down. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs, and I'm in charge of this investigation."

Her back straightened, and she glared at him. "How dare you come to my house at midnight and drag me down here to sit for three hours?"

"Three and a half hours, to be exact," Gibbs said. "You'll have to forgive me, I do have a few other things going on." She huffed irritably. "You haven't asked why you're here."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm suspected of embezzlement, or that's what I was told."

"Are you guilty?" he asked, his eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

"No, but if I was, do you think I'd just tell you like that?" Ferguson shook her head, clearly annoyed by Gibbs' whole demeanor.

Tony blinked. "This is an unusual tactic."

"It will work," Ziva said. Tony looked over at her curiously. She was watching with a slight smile on her face.

Gibbs chuckled. He actually chuckled, and then said, "A man can hope, can't he?"

"Hope," Ferguson snapped back with a grimace. "That's all men do is hope. They get bright ideas, pie in the sky dreams, but it takes a woman to make them happen."

"Really?" Gibbs said.

"You see it every day in the banking business. You get a man coming in to give this incredible presentation, but right behind him is the woman with the mock-ups and the business plans and the stick-to-itiveness to see it through."

"I suppose that's true."

"Damn right, it's true. Men are dreamers, women are planners, doers. Every great accomplishment in this world has happened because of a woman working behind the scenes, and are men grateful?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes is bullshit. I spend weeks planning presentations that my supervisor takes to meetings and gets full credit for. Does he even mention me? I'm just the little woman behind the scenes, no college degree, just an assistant." She laughed. "When I leave, he's never gonna know what hit him."

Ziva made a small sound of appreciation. "She was like this in the car, too. Could not stop talking." Tony could see where this was going now. Gibbs was going to let her hang herself with her own words.

Gibbs tilted his head. "You're going to quit your job?" he asked curiously.

She got a wary look at that question. "No, not any time soon."

Gibbs nodded. "Well, we've been talking to Mike –"

"Now there's a dreamer for you. All sorts of ideas, but no staying power."

"Which is where you come in?" Gibbs asked.

She made a face. "He needs pushing to get things done is all."

"And you do that for him?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

"Can you tell me about your movements on Tuesday?"

"I guess. I went to the gym at six, I do weight training, and then I went to work. Mike said he would be busy all night, so I went out to a movie with a friend of mine."

"Name and number?" Gibbs asked, pushing a pad of paper across to her. She looked both puzzled and alarmed, but she wrote the name and number down. "Weight training, huh?" Gibbs said while she did that. "How much can you press?"

"About three hundred," she said.

Gibbs nodded. "Must have come in handy on Tuesday night."

Again there was a flash of alarm. "I don't know what you mean."

"You don't?" Gibbs tilted his head. "Hmm . . . go on with your day."

"That's it," she said, shrugging. "Trish and I went to a movie and stopped for a bite afterwards, and then I went home and went to bed."

"Did you go out during the night?" She shook her head. "Did Mike call you?"

She nodded. "Around seven he called and . . ." She rolled her eyes. "He's kind of a romantic."

Tony glanced at Ziva. He wouldn't have pegged Travers for a romantic. Ziva shrugged.

"So he called to . . . what?"

"To tell me he loves me. Just sweet talking."

"And is that the only time you heard from him on Tuesday night?" She nodded. "And Wednesday morning?"

"I didn't hear from him at all on Wednesday morning."

"Where was your cell phone that night?"

"On my nightstand."

He looked through the papers he'd brought in with him. "I have cell phone records here that show him calling you at 0213."

"That would be 2:13 in the morning?" she asked. He nodded. "I had the ringer turned off."

"The records show a fifteen minute call."

"He must have left one hell of a long voice mail message, then."

"You haven't checked your voice mail since Wednesday morning?"

She blinked at him. "I . . . what are you trying to say?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Nothing, I'm just trying to clarify things. So, you're saying you didn't answer the call he made at 0213 on Wednesday morning?"

"Yes, I'm saying that."

"So, if you haven't checked your voice mail, then his message should still be on there. Can I hear it?"

"It's private," she said, shaking her head.

"It could be relevant to an NCIS investigation. I could get a warrant, but it would look better if you gave it to me yourself."

She stared at him, and Tony could see the wheels turning in her mind. A subpoena would just reveal the fact that there was no such message, and he'd lay odds that McGee could find that out for sure. "Okay, I talked to him, but he was talking crazy," she said. "I didn't want to get him in trouble."

"What was he saying?"

"It was all about how one of his co-workers had figured out he was doing something wrong and had called him on it. He was freaked out and said he had to do something about it."

"And now we have the blaming of the accomplice," Tony murmured. "Like clockwork." Ziva shot him a grin.

"Do what?" Gibbs asked.

"He didn't say. He was just rambling."

"What did his co-worker catch him doing?"

"This embezzling stuff, I guess," she said. "I don't know, I wasn't involved."

"Really?" Gibbs pulled out some papers. "Are you familiar with MCA Investments?" From there it went rapidly downhill for Ferguson. Gibbs roped her firmly to the embezzlement scheme, and she finally admitted to it. She seemed to think they were done, but Gibbs shook his head. "As it happens, you were misinformed as to why we wanted to talk to you," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her brows drawing together.

"When Mike called you on Tuesday night, did he tell you who the co-worker was?"

She nodded. "Gabe. I met him once. A regular boy scout. I knew there was no way we could buy him off."

"I see, and you said earlier that Mike told you something had to be done about it?"

"He said he was going to do something about it," she corrected.

"What did he say he was going to do?"

"He didn't. Just that he had to do something, but the guy committed suicide, didn't he? And you guys found out all about it anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"Actually, Agent Maitland did not commit suicide," Gibbs said.

"But Mike said . . . wait, you're not saying that Mike killed him?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, I'm saying that you killed him. You wouldn't trust something like that to Mike. You just said it takes a woman to get the real work done."

"You're crazy! If that guy was murdered, then Mike did it."

Ziva chuckled. "You were a little early."

Tony shrugged. "She was laying the groundwork. Not very bright, is she?"

Gibbs shuffled out another piece of paper. "Mike was at home in bed when Agent Maitland was killed," Gibbs said. "You, however, were not."

"You can't prove that!" she replied, which was a damning admission, but might not hold up in court.

Ziva glanced over at Tony. "It amazes me that with so many crime dramas on your television telling everyone what not to do, people still get caught."

"Maybe she's not much of a TV watcher," Tony suggested.

Gibbs looked down at his papers. "I have a photograph of you running the red light at McClellan and Fremont at 0432," he said.

"D'oh!" Tony said. "That's a $233.00 fine."

"It also puts her within three blocks of the murder scene at the right time," Ziva pointed out.

"I know, I was just . . ." He shook his head. "Did McGee find that?"

"He did."

Gibbs had kept going while they talked, and Ferguson was answering a question. "I wasn't out. Your photograph is wrong."

"It clearly shows your license plate number, and the shot of you isn't too bad either," Gibbs said, handing it to her.

She changed tactics hastily. "So what, I took a drive because I couldn't sleep."

"You took a drive that put you within three blocks of Gabriel Maitland's house?" Gibbs asked.

"Coincidence."

"What did he do when you knocked on the door?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't go there," she said desperately.

"Did he invite you in? Offer you a drink? Was he already in bed?"

"I didn't –"

"You know what the first thing I noticed on walking into that house was? Photographs of two little girls on every wall. Did you notice that?"

"I didn't go in the house!" she said. "I never got past the garage!"

"So what did happen?" Gibbs asked, betraying no emotion at the sudden admission.

She blinked uncertainly. "Um . . . the garage door was open when I got there. I went up and he was putting oil into the car parked inside."

"At that hour of the night?"

"I don't know why!" she exclaimed. "I was surprised, but it made it easy. I didn't have to knock or anything. I just went in."

"What did you say?"

"I asked him not to tell anyone what he found, I asked him not to rat on Mike."

"And what did he say?"

"That he had to play the hand he was dealt, like that meant something. He was going to put Mike and me in prison, and he was talking like it was a game of cards." Gibbs didn't say anything, but she didn't seem to notice. "There was a toolbox open on the workbench. I grabbed the first wrench on top and hit him with it. He'd just closed the hood, and he went down like . . ." She shook her head. "I closed the garage door and . . . he was dead already, so I figured I would stage it up like a suicide and no one would ever know."

Gibbs shook his head. "He wasn't dead," he said.

Her jaw went slack briefly, then she shook her head. "He was. I . . . I know he was!"

"The medical examiner says he died of carbon monoxide poisoning." She continued to protest, but Gibbs stood up. "We're done."

She sat staring at the chair Gibbs had vacated as he left the room. Tony glared at her through the mirrored glass. Gabe deserved better than to be killed by an incompetent idiot. He replayed that sentence in his head and grimaced. Like a competent idiot would have been better.

The door behind him opened, and he turned to see Gibbs coming into the room. "Ziva, can you take care of processing her?"

"Absolutely, Gibbs."

"DiNozzo, with me."

Startled, Tony followed him out of the room. "Boss, where are we going?" he asked as they got on the elevator.

"Home."

"Oh." Tony got a vivid image of his bed, which beat his desk all hollow as a surface for sleeping on. Unfortunately, that brought up a flash of Brody pinning him down on it, and he twitched involuntarily at the memory. "Sounds good," he said in a voice that sounded not too strangled. He hoped.

"Yeah, you sound thrilled, DiNozzo."

"Look, Boss, with the new locks, couldn't I go to my place?" It was the last place he wanted to go, but he hated putting Gibbs out.

"Tired of my place already?"

"Boss, you don't own a DVD player," Tony pointed out.

"Is that your measure of a decent place to stay, DiNozzo? Whether or not you can watch movies?"

"Isn't it everybody's?" Tony asked, quirking a grin at his boss.

"No, DiNozzo. Grab your stuff and let's get out of here."

Tony did as he was told, walking out to Gibbs' truck. He couldn't help glancing around to see if he could see Brody, but surely he'd gotten tired and gone home by now. After all, he had to go to work eventually.

"Don't worry, DiNozzo, I'll take a shortcut home."

Tony turned to him sharply. "That really isn't necessary, boss."

"Get in the truck, DiNozzo."


	6. Chapter 6

The trip to Gibbs' place wasn't nearly as hair raising as he'd expected. In fact, he slept most of the way there. He woke up at a stop light about a mile from Gibbs' house, and sat up, stretching carefully so as not to awaken his aches into full pain. He glanced behind them almost automatically. If Gibbs had taken a shortcut, it certainly hadn't involved bouncing over furrows or dodging trees. He didn't think he'd have slept through that. It took him till they pulled up in front of the house to realize what Gibbs' suggestion had implied. "I wasn't worried he was going to follow us," Tony said.

"No, DiNozzo?"

"No," Tony said. "If he wants to know where you live, all he has to do is ask around." Tony thought about that fact and bit his lip. "In fact, Boss, maybe I should just go home anyway," he said, gazing up at Gibbs' house. He didn't want Brody coming here to harass him.

"How?" Gibbs asked prosaically. He got out of the truck and headed for the front door. Tony followed him unwillingly.

"I could call a cab," he suggested.

"You don't have any keys for your apartment, and it's four in the morning. No one's going to be at your building manager's office for another four hours at least."

Tony blinked. "When you put it like that," he muttered, glumly dropping his pack on the floor by the door.

"Besides, you have a promise to keep," Gibbs said, walking straight through the kitchen.

"What promise, Boss?" Tony asked uncertainly. Gibbs went down the stairs, and Tony trailed after him. What had his big mouth gotten him into this time? Surely he hadn't promised to help with the boat while he was drunk last night.

"You said if I let you work the case, you'd tell me what happened between you and Brody when we were done," Gibbs said, picking up his hand plane and gazing at the ribs of the boat.

"I . . . I did, didn't I?" Tony said, wondering what he had been thinking. "Well, technically, the case isn't over, Boss," he said.

Gibbs turned to him, eyebrows going up. "It's not?" he asked.

Tony gulped. "Well, the paperwork hasn't all been done, and no reports have been filed, and . . . there's the trial . . .?"

"To all intents and purposes, the case is done, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Talk." That was a command Tony could follow with a great deal of ease. He opened his mouth, but before he could utter a syllable, Gibbs raised the index finger of his right hand. "Talk about what happened between you and Brody."

Tony's mouth clamped shut and he looked away. "Boss . . ."

"You made the offer, DiNozzo."

Tony dropped his chin to his chest in defeat. He didn't think Gibbs would take the excuse that he'd made that promise while he wasn't thinking clearly. After all, Gibbs knew damned well that he wouldn't have said anything like that if he had been thinking clearly. "So, everything about the incident in the garage today," he said, biting his lip. Again the tenderness surprised him and he stopped.

Gibbs had gone back to working, but at this remark he looked up again. "Everything everything, DiNozzo."

"We were talking about the incident today, Boss," Tony pointed out. If Gibbs could pick nits, so could he. "You were pushing me to get examined, I unglued about . . . stuff, and then I said I'd tell you what happened. It was about the incident today."

Gibbs eyes narrowed, but after a moment or so, he shrugged. "Fine, DiNozzo. Tell me what happened today, and that includes whatever the hell it was you dreamed about."

A claim not to remember the dream would not work on Gibbs. Tony glanced around, looking for the bottle he'd left down here. "Where's my rum?"

Gibbs looked around. "You know, I'm really not sure. I think there's some beer in the fridge, though."

One look at Gibbs' expression told him he was getting no further on that subject. "Want one?" Tony asked.

"Sure."

Tony went upstairs and grabbed a couple of beers and the cold pizza from the fridge. Beer on an empty stomach made for bad digestion later, and Tony had enough problems right now. He offered Gibbs the pizza, but the other man just shook his head. Tony settled down and watched Gibbs work.

It took almost ten minutes for Gibbs to stop, take a drink, and give him an appraising look. "Anytime now, DiNozzo," he said.

Tony swallowed his bite a little too hastily and had to take a big gulp of beer, which coincidentally emptied the bottle. "Back in a minute, Boss."

He came back with three bottles, a second one for Gibbs and a third for him for later. This was probably a good six beers story at least. Gibbs glanced at the beers, glanced at his face and said, "You ready now?"

"Not in the least, but I'm not going to be."

"So, this afternoon, you said you were caught out in a vulnerable spot. Start there."

Tony nodded. "I . . . I met Chuck at a coffee bar downtown, but there wasn't any street parking. I had to park in the garage on eleventh. I found a spot close to the elevator, in a sort of niche beside the elevator." Using his hands to indicate positions, he said, "Elevator, car, car, pillar, my car, wall." Gibbs nodded. "When I came back from the coffee bar, Brody was waiting by the end of my car. I really had no choice. I wasn't going to try and explain to the motor pool why I'd left the car behind, and he'd already seen me when I saw him, so . . ." He shrugged. "I walked on over and tried to get him to just leave me alone by telling him that a friend had just died and we'd caught the case, but . . ." He shook his head. "I walked past him, but instead of letting me go, he . . ." Tony paused and took a long swig. He didn't speak for awhile.

"He grabbed you?" Gibbs prompted.

Tony rested his head carefully against the wall and closed his eyes. "Yeah. He grabbed me." His gut boiled with sour anger, remembering that moment. "I couldn't stop him. He just dragged me around behind the pillar, where no one could see us, and . . ." He clenched his teeth. How could he say any of what had happened next aloud, much less to Gibbs?

When the silence had dragged on too long, Gibbs said, "DiNozzo?"

"Yeah Boss?" Tony said, opening his eyes and looking up at him.

"What next?"

Tony drank the last of one beer and opened another, trying to pretend he didn't notice the way his hands were shaking. "Next? I told him he was crazy and that I had to go. He didn't listen. He just shoved me against the pillar and . . . and . . . and he asked how I got out of my building without him seeing me this . . ." He snorted. "Yesterday morning, I guess it is now."

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "What did you tell him?"

"To stop following me," Tony replied. "He says he followed us to Annapolis, but I would have thought Ziva would have noticed that." Though, come to think of it, she'd been paying a lot of attention to him for the first part of the trip.

"I would have, too."

"But he knew we went to Annapolis, regardless," Tony said. "I told him – for maybe the fiftieth or sixtieth time – that we're done."

"I'm sure that met with his approval," Gibbs said dryly.

"Not exactly. He informed me that no one walks away from him, and that he decides when we're done."

"So far all of this is talking," Gibbs observed. "He pinned you to a wall so he could talk to you?"

"Actually, up to that point all he did was immobilize me and spout. I . . . I tried to get away then and proved just how ineffectual I am against him. He expected the knee to the groin tactic and avoided it. I started to . . . I reached for my piece."

"You were going to draw your weapon on him, and you want to handle it yourself?" Gibbs exclaimed, looking at Tony like he thought he was crazy.

Tony shook his head emphatically. "I wasn't going to draw, it was . . . I don't know, instinct. Shooting him wouldn't solve anything, unfortunately. All it would do is give the papers something to write about."

"What did he do?"

"He . . . we fought. I didn't have much effect." Tony didn't quite know what to say after that.

Gibbs looked up from his woodworking. "DiNozzo, this is like pulling teeth."

"For me, too, Boss," Tony said honestly.

Gibbs chuckled, but he showed no signs of relenting. "And then?"

"I . . . he . . . Boss!"

Gibbs sat down on his straight back chair and gazed at Tony with sympathy. "I could guess. Then you'd just have to tell me if I got it right or wrong."

The very thought was enough to send Tony's gut twisting. He took a deep breath and plunged on. "He tried to kiss me. I avoided it, and . . . well, you know he groped. You were there when I told Ducky."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, I was there, but . . ." Gibbs stood up again and started sanding the boat ribs. "It wasn't just your butt he groped, was it?"

Tony closed his eyes. "No, it wasn't." Silence stretched between them. That was pretty much all the details that counted.

After awhile, Gibbs cleared his throat. "How did you two meet?"

Tony looked up at him, startled. "That's outside the realm of what I agreed to talk about."

"I know." Gibbs went quiet, his usual strategy for stubborn interviewees, and Tony sighed.

Shaking his head, he shrugged. "I was trolling for a . . . a meaningless encounter." Gibbs raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "And I got in over my head."

"We know that."

"No, I mean . . ." Tony flushed. "I mean I was in real trouble, Gibbs."

Gibbs sat back again and gazed soberly at him. "What are you saying, Tony?"

"There were three of them . . . I don't do groups." Tony shrugged again, suppressing the memory the best he could while talking about it. "I don't know how far they were going to take it, but it had gone plenty far enough when Brody put a stop to it."

"Brody stopped –"

"He's a cop, Gibbs, not a rapist."

Gibbs blinked at him. "What would you say if I told you that you talk in your sleep?"

Tony froze. He'd been asleep . . . no. "I'd say you're full of shit."

"You did, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"That's crap, Boss. I do not talk in my sleep."

"Maybe not normally, but . . ." Tony looked up at him. He never could read Gibbs. If he'd talked while he slept in the office, he was going to die of shame. Gibbs seemed to read his thoughts. "In the truck, DiNozzo. All you did on your desk was snore."

"What did I say?" he asked uneasily.

Gibbs didn't speak for a long moment, then he shrugged. "Why don't you just tell me about the dream?"

Tony looked at the pair of beer bottles he had next to him. "Want some more?" he asked.

"Sure, but it's not getting you out of talking."

"Of course not." Tony grabbed the empty bottles from the workbench and took them all upstairs to dump in the recycling bin and took the last two beers out of the six pack and threw away the cardboard carton. It was impossible to be messy at Gibbs' house. No matter how hard Tony tried, he couldn't manage it.

Downstairs again, he handed a beer to Gibbs. "Ziva does not hear about this, and neither does McGee."

"Whatever you say, DiNozzo."

Tony sat back down and took a swallow. The beer wasn't mellowing him much tonight. Of course, there was a lot of adrenaline and bad mood to mellow. "I don't remember dreaming in the truck," he said.

"Maybe not, but the dream in the office has to have been a doozy. You looked . . . shattered."

Tony moistened his lips and tried to figure out how to explain this. "You've got to understand, it was always a kind of . . . he was somewhat controlling from the start. It's embarrassing, but I was sort of looking for that. I didn't want to . . . I'd spent so much time . . . I can't put it into words."

"I get it, DiNozzo."

Tony stared at him for a moment. Maybe he did. "So then . . . it was pretty no holds barred. I wasn't interested in . . . God, this is hard to talk about with you."

"You already made it pretty clear that it was rough sex, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "But I don't get the feeling there was any real bondage."

"Euw," Tony said. "No."

"Okay. Rough sex, a little domineering, got it." Tony flushed and opened his mouth. "You don't need to make excuses, DiNozzo. There's nothing wrong with any of that." Tony scowled at his feet. "The dream?"

"You remember the Fargo case, Boss? With the –"

"Yeah," Gibbs said quickly, and Tony nodded. It had been an unpleasant, sordid situation. The less said about it, the better. "I just wanted to go home and watch some Bond and pretend the world away, only Brody was there."

"Was it a planned meeting?"

"No, he would just show up, sometimes. Usually he made it clear he was there from the moment I got home, but sometimes he'd surprise me. That night he surprised me."

"And?" Tony grimaced miserably and looked away. "DiNozzo?"

Tony sighed, hating the necessity of explaining. Without meeting Gibbs' eyes, he said, "I wasn't in the mood, he was, and he didn't particularly care how I felt about it."

"So he –"

"I just stopped protesting," Tony said quickly, not wanting to hear what Gibbs had to say. He didn't think too hard about why, but he didn't want Gibbs to say the next word. "He got his way." He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and looking down at his hands.

Gibbs had broken off when Tony interrupted. Now he walked over and squatted down in front of where Tony sat on the floor, tapping Tony on the knee. "Did you say no, DiNozzo?"

"What of it?" Tony said, still not meeting Gibbs' eyes.

"Did you say no?"

"Yes, I said no."

"What did he do?"

"I didn't push back hard enough," Tony said, feeling like he was fighting a losing battle, but not altogether sure against what. "I stopped struggling."

"You were struggling?"

"Boss, I don't . . . it's not –"

"It's not what?" Gibbs asked gently when Tony didn't finish his sentence.

"It's not what you think."

"I think you said no and he ignored it," Gibbs said

Tony swallowed uncomfortably. "Okay, that's basically true."

"And if that happened to Abby –"

"I'd kill the son of a bitch!" Tony growled. "But it's not the same."

"Why not?"

"Because she's not trained to defend herself, Gibbs, and she wouldn't have led the guy to think that pushing her around was okay. She wouldn't have given him the impression that she wanted to be forced."

Gibbs didn't respond immediately, and Tony wished he could unsay it all. Finally, his boss tilted his head. "Did you ever say no when you didn't mean it?" he asked.

"No, I'm not an idiot," Tony said.

"Did you say no more than once?"

Tony scowled. "Gibbs, that isn't the point. I must have made him think somehow that I wanted him to be like that. He wouldn't have just . . . something I said, something I did, something gave him the wrong impression."

* * *

Gibbs wanted to shoot Brody and strangle Jenny. If she hadn't assumed she knew enough about DiNozzo to handle him in an op like the one with Jeanne, he wouldn't be in this mess now. If she'd only asked him first – but then he hit a brick wall. He hadn't been around to ask. If he hadn't selfishly left NCIS, left Tony, left all of them behind, Jenny would have asked his advice. She wasn't stupid even if she was cocksure and arrogant. He would have been able to head off the worst of that situation before it happened.

Regardless, that was then, this was now, and he had to get DiNozzo out of this self-flagellating mood. "Sometimes a jackass is just a jackass, DiNozzo. Just because he got you out of a mess with a trio of bastards, it doesn't make him a saint."

"I know that," Tony said irritably. He seemed to be getting sleepy again, and the beer was encouraging that. Gibbs wasn't above taking advantage.

"Did you say no more than once?" he asked again.

Tony shook his head. "You mean that time?"

A bomb of fury exploded behind Gibbs' eyes, but he kept it off his face with an effort. In a calm, even tone, he said, "Yeah, that time."

"Sure, several times. He told me to shut up."

Gibbs pursed his lips. "How many times did he not take no for an answer?"

DiNozzo considered the question briefly, then shrugged. "Don't know," he said. "Where's the rum?"

Gibbs reached out and pulled it from behind the toolbox and handed Tony a mug. He went back work on the boat. Somewhere, in some database, there had to be record of the bastard's address. McGee would be able to find it.


	7. Chapter 7

That was pretty much it for Tony. Three sips of something harder than beer, and he was ready to fall asleep leaning against the wall. Gibbs got him to his feet and guided him upstairs and into the guest room before he conked out completely. Then he got DiNozzo's shoes off, undid his pants and started to slip them off, but DiNozzo's hands came down hard on his wrists. He looked up, seeming alarmed, but when he saw Gibbs, he blinked sleepily and let go. He sat up and got himself out of his pants and shirt and flopped back over in his boxers. Gibbs pulled the blanket up and went back downstairs.

There was a distinctive ringing sound coming from Tony's backpack. Gibbs walked over and dug the phone out of its little pocket. On the display it said, "Blocked Number." Anyone calling DiNozzo at five in the morning likely had a good reason, though.

Flipping the phone open, he said, "DiNozzo's phone."

There was a pause, then a masculine voice spoke at the other end. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "I take it you're Brody Harris."

Another pause, then the man cleared his throat. "You must be Gibbs," he said slowly.

"I must be," Gibbs said.

"Put Tony on."

"I don't think so," Gibbs replied. "The harassment has to stop, Detective Harris."

"What harassment?" Brody demanded.

"Tony has told you to back off, but you don't seem to be getting the message."

"My relationship with Tony is none of your business," Brody snarled. "You stay out of it. It has nothing to do with his work for NCIS."

"Tony is more than a subordinate, he's a friend, and it's as his friend that I'm telling you to back off."

"Oh, you're his friend, are you?" Brody said, and there was definite menace in his tone. "You back off. He's mine."

"He's not," Gibbs said mildly. "The harassment has to stop. That's all I have –" There was a rattling as the phone disconnected. Gibbs looked at Tony's phone, closed it and tucked it in his pocket. Maybe he'd better see about getting Tony a new phone. He didn't need to be getting calls from this prick. In the meantime Gibbs needed to catch an hour or two of shuteye. He set his alarm for 0730 and went to bed.

The phone in his pants pocket began beeping loudly at quarter to seven, and Gibbs rolled over and grabbed it. Not a call but an alarm function. He stared at it, trying to read the tiny words on the bottom of the screen. DiNozzo came shambling into the room and took the phone from his hand. He pressed a button and the appalling noise shut off. DiNozzo looked at the phone, then looked at Gibbs. "Why was this in here?" he asked.

Gibbs sat up. "You got a call," he said, taking the phone back. "At around five."

"Something wrong?" Tony asked.

"It was Brody," Gibbs said, and Tony shook his head.

"I never gave him that number. I told you, Boss."

"He's a cop, DiNozzo. You've given this number to other cops, haven't you?"

Light dawned in Tony's eyes. "Right. He . . . he asked around. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Did you want to talk to him?"

Tony shrugged. "No, but you're not responsible for screening my calls."

"You were drunk and dead to the world, DiNozzo. I wasn't waking you up to take more of his crap."

Tony's eyes widened. "What did you say to him, Boss?" he asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

"I told him to back off," Gibbs said. "He didn't take it well."

Tony sat down on the chair next to the bed and rubbed his eyes. "No, I'm betting he didn't."

"We aren't due in 'til . . ." Gibbs glanced at the clock and then gauged Tony's appearance. "'Til eleven," he finished. "Get some more sleep."

"You cleared that with the director?" Tony asked.

Gibbs nodded, lying easily. He would clear it with her when DiNozzo was safely back in bed and asleep. "You need more rest, DiNozzo, and we finished our case. Ziva and McGee can finish up the paperwork, and our reports don't have to be filed today."

"Gotta say, boss, that's news to me," DiNozzo said with a faint grin. "I thought you wanted our reports in as fast as we could get them done."

"Are you complaining that I'm giving you a little leeway?" Gibbs asked.

"No, no, of course not."

"Go back to bed, DiNozzo. I'll keep an eye on your phone."

"Right," DiNozzo said, and he left the room. Gibbs waited fifteen minutes, then took a peek into the guest room. DiNozzo was on the bed, sprawled on his face, snoring very slightly. The riot of color on his arms was growing truly impressive.

He went downstairs and called Jenny. As he'd expected, she was in her office and fully in persona. Once she'd announced herself as Director Shepard, he said, "Jenny, DiNozzo and I won't be in until eleven today."

"Any particular reason?"

"He's exhausted, and he needs his rest, and I'm not leaving him alone at the moment. If you need me to come in, we'll have to free up Ziva or McGee to come keep an eye on him."

"I think we can muddle by without you till eleven, Jethro. How's he doing?"

Gibbs glanced towards the room where DiNozzo lay snoring. "He'll live," Gibbs said. He didn't want to get into specifics on the phone, and his mood was sufficiently foul that too much detail right now might turn into accusations.

"I knew that," she said, sounding annoyed.

"Jenny, I don't think this is the right moment. I'm going to ask McGee to come out here and pick up DiNozzo's phone. Would you have a new one issued? New number, too."

"He got a call," she said flatly. "How'd he take it?"

"He was snoring. I answered, and I warned the bastard off."

"I don't think your brand of intimidation works over the phone, Jethro."

"I think you're right. Can I expect McGee to show up with a phone for DiNozzo?"

"Of course."

He hung up and called McGee. The water flow in the background made it clear what the young man was doing. "McGee, turn off the shower and listen."

"Yes, Boss!" he exclaimed. The water stopped and McGee came back on the line. "What's up, Boss? We got a case?"

"In a manner of speaking. I need you to go into the office as quickly as you can. The director will give you a cell phone for DiNozzo. Bring it here and pick his up. I'll have further instructions when you get here. Rinse your hair and get moving."

"Yes, Boss!"

He hung up and dialed Ziva's number. She was in the car. "Yes, Gibbs?" she said, sounding startled.

"Come to my place before you go to the Navy Yards," he said, and then he hung up. How he was going to convince Ziva not to simply kill the man instead of investigating him, he didn't know, but he needed her on the job and not in jail. Under the circumstances, Brody Harris turning up dead would be decidedly suspicious, but official interest would attach to DiNozzo, not to Ziva. Perhaps if he pointed that out it would persuade her. DiNozzo'd already been investigated for murder once. That was more than enough for anyone.

He made another check on DiNozzo before he went to fix himself breakfast. Still snoring away. Smiling slightly, he went down to the kitchen.

* * *

Tony woke up and stretched, hissing at the way his bruises reacted to the motion. There was no clock in Gibbs' spare bedroom, so he reached for his phone, which he usually left on the bedside table. His hand came up empty, and he squinted at the table, bare but for the lamp. Right, he thought, Gibbs had it. Rolling over on his back, he stared at the ceiling. The sun was bright overhead, and he felt halfway to rested. He couldn't believe how much he'd told Gibbs, and he couldn't be sure how his boss was going to interpret it all. He had not been raped. Brody had . . . he hadn't . . .

Tony's thoughts foundered there, and he got out of bed without letting himself think about anything more complicated than a shower. By the time he got out of the water, he could smell bacon and eggs. He went into the guest room and got dressed. When he went to get dressed, he couldn't find any turtlenecks. He apparently already worn the only shirt he'd packed that would cover his neck, and it was trashed.

He went downstairs wearing a t-shirt. "Hey Boss," he said.

Gibbs looked up from the frying pan and blinked at him. "I thought you wanted to keep all that to yourself."

Tony touched his neck uncomfortably, wincing when he put inadvertent pressure on the bite mark. "I appear not to have thought things through when I packed," he said ruefully. "Can we go by the apartment? He won't be there. He's got to have figured out I'm not staying there if you answered the phone."

"I had Ziva check. He's on duty today. Clocked in for his normal shift."

Unexpectedly, relief flooded through Tony, making him feel dizzy and slightly weak. He rubbed his forehead and tried to conceal his reaction. "So, we go by my place, I find something that covers a little more of my body, and we go in to work."

"Sounds like a plan, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

The traffic between Gibbs' place and Tony's was heavier than either of them had expected at ten in the morning, and they were running very short of time when they got to the apartment building. Tony was mildly surprised when Gibbs came up with him, but he'd been being exceptionally overprotective, so Tony supposed he should have expected it. They had to stop by his manager's office to get the new keys, and that took still more time. In the elevator, Gibbs said, "Just get changed as fast as you can. We'll come back tonight, and you can pack a little more appropriately."

Tony nodded, and soon they were on their way to NCIS headquarters. Just before the elevator doors opened, Gibbs said, "Ducky's expecting you down in autopsy."

"Expecting me?" Tony said, a little startled. "For what?"

"A full examination and photographs."

McGee and Ziva looked up from their desks as the doors opened. Tony hit the door close button followed shortly by the emergency stop. He turned towards Gibbs, gazing at him intently. "Gibbs, I already said I didn't want to pursue this officially."

"I know you did, DiNozzo, but if you change your mind, we'll need the records."

"I'm not going to change my mind, Boss."

"What if he goes further?" Gibbs asked. "What if he does this to someone else?"

"I told you, I checked. There are no complaints."

"You haven't filed one."

Tony froze. That was true. Could he have done this before to someone else who hadn't . . . Tony shook his head. "I don't want photographs of me looking like this hiding in a file somewhere waiting to bite me in the butt. You remember how that lawyer used Abby's restraining order against her."

"DiNozzo, go down to autopsy. I promise you, the photos will never see the inside of a file if we don't pursue it."

Tony grimaced. Gibbs wasn't giving in. "Fine, I'll go." Gibbs opened the elevator doors, and they got out. This time, Ziva and McGee pretended they didn't see them at all. Tony dumped his gear by his desk and walked on to the second elevator without greeting either of them. As Gibbs had said, Ducky was waiting. Fortunately, Palmer was nowhere to be seen, there were no bodies in sight, and there was an area screened off from the doors, so no one could see in through them, and if someone came in, all they'd see was the top of Tony's head. They were high enough that a visitor wouldn't even be able to tell that Ducky was there.

"Good morning, Anthony. How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," Tony said.

"I would imagine," Ducky said sympathetically. "Please go behind the screens and disrobe. Let's get this done as quickly as possible."

Tony thought about protesting, but there wasn't much point. If he objected, Ducky would just call Gibbs, and he didn't really want Gibbs down here. He stripped to his boxers, and Ducky came around the screen. "How do you want me to pose, Ducky?" he asked, trying to play it up, but he couldn't quite control his tone and the joke fell flat. "What do you want me to do?" Brimming with compassion that was almost more than Tony could take, Ducky gave him instructions and snapped pictures of everything, including his butt. Ducky gave him a more thorough exam than the one he'd given the day before, one that proved that even if Gibbs hadn't told Ziva and McGee what Tony had told him, he'd definitely told Ducky.

When it was all over, he said, "I haven't been raped, Ducky."

"Nobody said you had, dear boy," Ducky replied, looking surprised. "Jethro merely asked me to make certain that you were in good health and expressed concern that there might be injuries you weren't telling us about. I only agreed because he said you'd never go to a regular doctor."

Tony snorted. "He's right about that." He pulled his boxers back on. "I guess I'd better get upstairs and go to work."

Ducky nodded and left the screened off area. Tony sat down to pull his pants on, and the door to autopsy opened. "Where is he?" the director asked.

"Director, I don't think –" Ducky started, but Tony stood up hastily to finish buttoning his pants and grabbed his shirt, attempting to finish getting dressed as quickly as possible. This had the unfortunate effect of calling attention to his location.

"Ah, there he is," Jenny said. She pulled the screen aside before he could pull his shirt on and he stood staring at her in dismay. Her eyes widened as she took in the marks on his arms and the uncovered bruises on his face. "My God, Tony . . ." she murmured.

Tony pulled his shirt on angrily. "I believe that sexual harassment lady would call this a red light situation, or at least yellow. I'm fine, director."

"You're suggesting that I'm guilty of sexual harassment?" Jenny said incredulously. "Look at what this man has done to you. Tony, you have to press charges against him. He needs to be held accountable."

"I can't prove it wasn't consensual," Tony said. "I thought you understood that."

"Rape convictions have been secured against an abusive member of this sort of relationship in the past, Tony," she said.

"What sort of relationship are you talking about, director?" Tony demanded. "Just what did Gibbs tell you?"

"None of what you told me last night, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, walking into the room. "Do you need something, director?"

"Just checking on the welfare of one of my agents," she said, and Tony wished they'd have a pissing contest about something else . . . somewhere else.

"Ducky, you done with DiNozzo?"

"I am, Jethro."

"Is he fit?"

"He is."

"Then what are you waiting for, DiNozzo? Get to work."

"Yes, Boss."

Tony hurried out of the room willingly. Ducky caught him while he waited for the elevator, pressing a bottle into his hand. "It's just ibuprofen, Anthony, but you'll need it."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tony said. "If he asks, tell Gibbs I'm going to Abby's lab."

Ducky nodded and went back into autopsy. Tony didn't envy Ducky the confrontation that he had to be witnessing in there. Tony pressed the button for the next level up and headed into Abby's lab. She turned as he entered. "Tony! Your face looks terrible." She walked up and touched his chin gently. "That man needs to have his head examined. How could anybody be this mean to my Tony?"

Tony contemplated for a moment what Brody would do if he heard Abby calling him that and reached out to give her a hug. "Don't worry about it, Abby."

"How can I not worry about it? You worried about me when I was being stalked."

"So, how did Midshipman McCormick do with her sketch?"

"Very well," Abby said, turning away. Tony sighed with relief. Mention evidence and Abby got distracted. "Unfortunately, I compared her picture against all the suspects in the case and came up blank, and coming up with a new suspect after all this time could be difficult."

"Well, we know a lot more about our killer than we did before," Tony said.

"Like what?"

"Well, there's the fact that even though he killed Colonel McCormick, he didn't automatically kill the girl who witnessed the crime. And Diane didn't know him. She knew all the men we suspected at the time, so that changes the field a bit." Abby nodded contemplatively. "Okay, why don't you print me out a copy of the picture."

"Sure." She was just handing it to him when Gibbs came in.

"Boss," Tony said. "Here's the picture Diane McCormick came up with for our killer." Gibbs looked at it and nodded, clearly waiting for Tony to make his point. "I thought maybe I could take McGee or Ziva and show the picture to some of the people connected with Colonel McCormick."

Gibbs shook his head. "McGee and Ziva are busy," he said.

Tony blinked. "We catch a case?"

"No," Gibbs said, and his expression suggested that he knew Tony wasn't going to be happy with what McGee and Ziva were working on.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with Brody Harris, would it?" Tony asked suspiciously.

Gibbs opened his mouth, but Abby spoke before he could. "Brody Harris? But that's the guy the director has me checking out."

Tony turned to look at her, then glared at Gibbs. "That's it," he said. "I don't believe it. I guess I truly have no right to privacy at all."

"Does this guy have something to do with you, Tony?" Abby asked. "The director didn't say that, she –" Abby broke off. "Is he the guy who did all this?" she demanded, pointing at Tony's face.

"Abby, it's –"

"I'll kill him, and I can get away with it, too. I will go find him and –"

"No!" Tony exclaimed. When both Gibbs and Abby stared at him in shock, he realized just how loudly he'd spoken. "You stay away from him, Abby," he said in a more moderate tone. "Promise me you won't go anywhere near him."

"What, you don't think I can do it?" Abby asked, offended.

Tony took her hands and looked into her eyes. "Abby, promise me."

"Abby's not going to go near him," Gibbs said. "Abby, print up another couple copies of that picture, would you?"

"Sure," she said. "And Tony, I was mostly kidding." She walked away, and Tony put his hand over his mouth. Gibbs was going to ask, and he couldn't deny he had reason to now. Abby brought the pages over, and Gibbs took them. She gave Tony a quick kiss on the cheek and said, "The mirror is in my office. You saw where I keep it, right?"

Tony nodded and doctored his face hastily. While he worked, he watched Abby talk intently to Gibbs. No doubt she was informing him exactly how much she wanted him to stop Brody from hurting her Tony. At the moment, he didn't care, so long as she never went anywhere near the bastard.

His suspicions were confirmed when Abby broke off the moment he emerged and went back to working on her computer. Gibbs looked him over and said, "You're getting better."

"Good," Tony said as they left Abby's lab.

"Not so much," Gibbs said, and Tony looked at him, puzzled. "You shouldn't need to get good at this, DiNozzo."

"It could be useful undercover," Tony pointed out.

Gibbs hit the emergency stop, and Tony looked at him uncertainly. "You want to explain that thing about Abby?"

Tony shrugged. "That's why he punched me," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I told him I wouldn't be available on a Friday night. He wasn't thrilled, but I thought he was okay with it. I went to a concert with Abby, and you know how those things can be." He noticed Gibbs' blank expression and shrugged. "Okay, maybe you don't. Anyway, it was while the car was in the shop, so Abby dropped me off in front of the building, but she was hyped up on Red Bull and her farewell was a little affectionate."

"Yeah?"

"Well, Brody was upstairs, and he saw." The menace from Gibbs grew visibly. "I would never have endangered Abby, Boss," Tony said hastily. "I didn't know he was there. When I went into my apartment, he greeted me with a punch in the face, and he accused me of cheating on him. I told him it was nonsense, that she was like my sister. I'm pretty sure I convinced him, but the way he's been lately, I don't want her anywhere near him."

"Did he threaten her?"

"You think I wouldn't have told you that instantly, no matter what else was going on?" Tony asked incredulously. "No, I was the target of his . . ." He flushed. "He punched me and we had an argument, but when I had him convinced that there was nothing like that going on with Abby, he wanted me to go to bed with him. I told him we were through and kicked him out."

"And it worked?"

"Because we never made it out of the front hall of the apartment," Tony said. "And he was a little embarrassed, I think, about overreacting."

"You don't think she's in danger?"

"Not unless she goes up to him and announces that he's not allowed to bother her Tony anymore," Tony replied honestly. "You know how she talks about me." Gibbs nodded and hit the emergency stop again. "So, what am I going to be working on?"

"You and I will go see if anyone recognizes the guy in this picture."

Tony felt his brows go up. "What is this, Boss? You won't send McGee or Ziva, but you'll go yourself? Do you see how little –" He broke off when Gibbs' hand tapped the back of his head. He'd done a good job of judging where to strike, because he missed the bumps entirely.

"Grab your gear, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as they got off the elevator.

"Where are you two going?" Ziva asked.

"To work the McCormick case," Gibbs replied. "Call me if you get anything." Tony glanced at his teammates. They were both studiously avoiding his eyes.

"You think we should call ahead, Boss?"

"Have you already looked into where they are?" Tony picked up a list and held it out, and Gibbs shrugged. "Then let's just go." They headed out. The weather was not looking promising, and Tony grimaced at the lowering clouds. There would be rain before long. The first several stops were unfruitful, and Tony looked down at his list. "Lt. Colonel Lozano retired last year. He bought into a law partnership downtown." Gibbs turned towards the address Tony gave him. Tony glanced as they passed the garage he'd parked in the day before. He nodded towards the coffee shop. "That's where I met Chuck," he said. Gibbs took a look but he didn't say anything.

They reached an old office block with a sign directing them to parking in the back. Gibbs parked, and they went around to the front of the building. Lozano took one look at the picture and said, "That's Parker. He was a gunnery sergeant in our division, discharged dishonorably about six months after Dave died. I think it was for some kind of disciplinary misconduct, but I don't really remember. I wasn't involved."

"First name?"

Lozano shook his head. "I . . . Miles, I think."

"Gunnery Sergeant Miles Parker?" Tony asked, and Lozano nodded. "Do you know what he did after the discharge?"

"I barely knew the man," Lozano said. "I just saw him in Dave's office a few times."

"Thank you for your time," Tony said, and he and Gibbs left. "That's more than we had before. Do you want to hit the other guys on the list, or do you want to see what we can find out about Parker first?"

"How many more names on the list?" Gibbs asked, squinting at the sky, which had darkened considerably in just the time they'd been inside.

"Two, but they're both in Annapolis." Tony pulled ahead as he made for the passenger side of the car.

"Let's pick it up –" Gibbs broke off with a grunt, and Tony turned to see what was wrong. What he saw made his heart stop. Gibbs sagged against Brody, not unconscious but clearly dazed. Brody had an arm around his chest and a gun under his chin. Tony pulled his gun, but he couldn't get a clear shot. He shifted sideways, trying to improve his position, but Brody shifted with him, dragging Gibbs along. The memory of a ball cap with a hole through the bill held him back from taking the few possible shots he saw.

"Brody, stop it!" Tony said. "You can't possibly think you'll get away with this!"

"I'm already screwed," Brody replied. "Your boss, here, and your director saw to that."

Tony shook his head. "Brody, this –"

"Shut up, Tony," Brody said, and with the gun pointing at Gibbs' head, Tony fell silent. "Now, put your gun down. We both know you're not going to shoot me." Tony took a deep breath and lowered the Sig. "On the ground, Tony. Drop it and kick it under your car."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs said warningly. He was coming to himself again, but Brody shook him by the neck. Tony was struck by just how much bigger Brody was than Gibbs.

"I will shoot him, Tony. He's made enough trouble for me that it would be a pleasure."

Tony dropped his gun to the ground and kicked it away. It slid underneath the agency car, out of easy reach for both him and Gibbs. He still had his back up piece, but –

"Now the one on your ankle," Brody said, and Tony bit his lip. "Do it, Tony."

"I don't know what you think you're going to accomplish," Gibbs started, but Brody kneed him in the back. Gibbs' eyes widened in pain, and Tony squatted, pulling his back up gun out of the ankle holster and sending it after the Sig.

"Brody, don't hurt him," Tony said, holding his hands out in an unthreatening position. "What do you want?"

The light that brought into Brody's eyes made Tony's stomach flip over. "First, take your cell phone and throw it under the car, too." Tony took the brand new cell phone he'd gotten that morning and watched it smash to pieces under the agency car. "Now, I want you to go to the Sonata across the way," he said, gesturing towards a red car that was parked parallel to the building. "Open the driver's door and pop the trunk."

"Don't do it, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, but Brody's finger moved on the trigger.

"Okay, okay," Tony said. "Don't shoot." He backed over to the car and followed the instructions. The sight of three suitcases in the trunk made Tony terribly nervous. "Now take your pants off and put them and your belt in the trunk."

"Brody, what –"

"Shut up, Tony!" Brody snapped. Tony ground his teeth in silence. "Do what I tell you, or your boss dies."

Gibbs glared at him, ordering him silently not to obey, but he couldn't risk Brody shooting his boss. At this point, with both his guns and his phone under the car, he wouldn't have much chance of getting away even if he let Brody kill Gibbs and ran. He did as he'd been told. "Your jacket, too," Brody said, and Tony obeyed. "Close the trunk and open the rear passenger door."

"Tony!" Gibbs said warningly, but Tony didn't dare look at him. He opened the door and waited for further instructions. A pair of handcuffs was attached to a chain that was fastened somehow under the front passenger seat, and Tony bit his lip.

"Get in and put the cuff on your left wrist," Brody said Tony took a deep breath and crawled into the car. He picked up the cuff and, after a brief hesitation, closed it around his own wrist. Kneeling in the footwell behind the driver's seat, he twisted so he could see what was going on behind him. "Let me see the cuff, Tony." Tony shifted so that Brody could see everything. He heard a grunt and a thump behind him and twisted again. Gibbs lay flat on the ground.

Tony jerked against the cuff, trying to reach his boss. "What are you doing!"

"He's not dead, he's just unconscious. I don't want him calling for help too soon." He fished in Gibbs' pants pockets and pulled out his phone, crushing it underfoot. Tony watched helplessly while Brody got Gibbs into the agency car and closed the door. Brody then dug the guns out from under the car, dumped them and the keys in the trunk of the agency car, and slammed it shut. That done, he turned and came across to the Sonata. As he came closer, Tony felt tendrils of sweat creeping down his neck. His gut twisted and his heart sped up. He just didn't know what to expect at this point. "Lie down on the seat, Tony, facing towards the back of the car."

"Brody, what –"

Brody leaned in and put his hands around Tony's neck from behind. It was alarming just how easily the larger man's hands encircled his neck. "Do what I tell you before I knock you out, too," he murmured. Tony wanted to be able to follow what was going on, so he took a deep breath and lay down on the rear seat, folding himself up uncomfortably. Brody grabbed his right arm and cuffed it behind him to his left. He pulled out a roll of silvery duct tape and forced Tony's ankles together, winding the tape around them five or six times to keep them from moving.

"Brody, this doesn't make any sense!" Tony protested. "What are you going to do with me?" Brody didn't respond verbally, but he pulled out a large handkerchief, wadding it up as he leaned into the car. "Brody, no!" Tony exclaimed.

"I'd use tape, but I don't want to damage those lips," Brody said, gazing at Tony's mouth in a way that made his stomach roil nauseously. He held Tony still and stuffed the wad of fabric into his mouth. Then he secured it with a twisted bandana tied around the back of Tony's head, caressing Tony's lips with his fingers afterwards. Tony glared up at him, clenching his teeth over the fabric. Brody smiled down, and Tony controlled a shudder. There was little reason in those eyes. His hands stroked down Tony's body as he drew back out of the car, squeezing Tony's ass in passing. Tony twitched in revulsion, staring at the dark gray upholstery of the seat.

Brody moved away, and Tony heard the trunk open again. A moment later the other man was back, and he shook a heavy blanket out over the top of Tony, covering him completely. As the smothering weight came down on top of him, Tony prayed that Brody had gauged his blow right, and that Gibbs wasn't dying of the same kind of fracture that would most likely have killed Gabe in the end, even without the faked suicide.

The car door shut beyond his feet, and Brody climbed into the driver's seat. "It's not that long a drive, Tony," he said. "You'll be okay."

Tony lay on his side and wondered what the hell had changed to make Brody ready to act so decisively – and irrevocably.

* * *

Gibbs became aware first of a blinding headache. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in one of the standard issue agency cars, he had a bump on his head, his primary weapon was gone from its holster and he was in a downtown parking lot.

Parking lot? Red car. DiNozzo! He opened the door and stood up, resting his hand on the roof of the car to balance himself. The red car was gone, of course, and another had taken its place while Gibbs had sat unconscious. No doubt he had just looked like a business man taking a nap during his lunch. His cell phone wasn't on his belt, but pieces of casing littered the ground.

He made his way around the building and back into the law offices. The secretary took one look at him and hurried to help him into a chair. "I need a phone," he said.

Lozano and one of the other partners emerged from their offices and stared at him in shock.

"Where's the other agent?" Lozano asked, jumping up and coming to Gibbs' side.

"He's been abducted," Gibbs said. "I need a phone, and I need it now."

The secretary handed him the handset of a cordless phone and he dialed Jenny's number. "Director Shepard," she said.

He looked at the clock on the wall. "Harris took DiNozzo about an hour ago from the parking lot behind 3623 Lexington in downtown DC. He knocked me out and left me in the car. He was driving a red Hyundai Sonata, not sure what year. Recent. I didn't see the plates." Lozano left the building. Gibbs wasn't sure what he was doing, but he didn't have the energy to stop him and ask.

"Where are you calling from?"

"Basset, Price, Lozano, the law firm in suite 3 of that building."

"Number?"

Gibbs shook his head, then winced at the pain his movement caused. "What's the number here?" he asked. The secretary told him, and he repeated it to Jen.

"I'll call you back when I've got the ball rolling," she said and hung up without further ado. He handed the phone back to the secretary.

The partner came up with an ice pack, and Gibbs applied it to his skull. Before too many minutes had passed, he got up and went back around the building, ignoring the attempts on the part of the partner and the secretary to keep him from rising. There he found that Lozano had done a crude job of cordoning off the crime scene using wet floor warning cones he must have grabbed from a janitor's closet. Gibbs didn't ask how he'd identified the agency car, it had government plates and the cell phone debris at the foot of it was a subtle clue. Put together with the driver side door hanging open, it was pretty clear.

The crime scene truck rolled up, and both Ziva and McGee boiled out of it, running over to him. "Boss, are you okay?" McGee asked.

"Where's the gear?" Gibbs demanded. "We've got a crime scene to work, here."

McGee's eyes widened, and they both hurried back toward the truck. Halfway there, Ziva stopped to answer her phone. She turned and ran back. "It is the director," she said, handing it to him.

"Gibbs."

"I thought you were going to stay at the law office till I called you."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Do you need an ambulance?"

"I'm fine, Jenny," he snarled. "DiNozzo may not be. What the hell did you do? I know it wasn't me, I didn't do anything that would raise flags."

"I'll be there in five minutes, Jethro. We can talk then." The connection went dead, and he pocketed Ziva's phone.

Ziva walked up with a pad of paper and a determined look. "What happened?" she asked.

Gibbs closed his eyes. "We had finished interviewing retired Lt. Colonel Lozano and were returning to the car when I sensed movement behind me." He gestured towards a nearby van and a large truck. "Harris came from between those two vehicles. I dodged but he succeeded in gaining control over both me and my weapon." Anger at himself ate at him. He had screwed up.

Ziva nodded, her face impassive. "Then what happened?"

"Then DiNozzo did something you and McGee had better never do." Ziva looked up. "He allowed me to be used as a hostage. Harris had him disarm himself, remove his pants and jacket and restrain himself inside a vehicle that was parked over there, where that blue Honda is now." Ziva glanced over and made a note. "Once Harris was certain he was restrained, he knocked me out. I woke up in the car without my weapon or my cell phone."

A black and white rolled into the parking lot and stopped, blocking the entrance. Gibbs walked over to head them off, pulling out his badge. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he said. "This is our crime scene." He did not want DC Metro getting involved in this case.

"We got a 911 call from the lawyer's office there," the uniform replied, gesturing towards the sign for Basset, Price, Lozano. "Said a federal agent had been abducted from a parking lot here."

Gibbs nodded. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS. We've got it covered."

"You look a little the worse for wear yourself, Agent Gibbs," the officer observed. "This is in our jurisdiction, and unless it's connected with an NCIS case, it's our investigation."

Gibbs started to respond, but more people coming around the corner caught his attention. Fornell was approaching with Sacks and two other agents. "Actually, it's ours," Fornell said. "Gibbs, get your people and go back to NCIS headquarters. You'll be assisting in the search."

For a moment Gibbs was furious at the entire notion of Fornell taking over the investigation, but then he realized what was really happening. Fornell would handle DC Metro, leaving NCIS free to find DiNozzo.

"McGee, David, you're with me!" he called, making both Fornell and the Metro officer wince with his volume. McGee and Ziva looked up, startled, but at Fornell's gesture, the two unknown FBI agents hurried forward to relieve them of their tasks. Gibbs nodded, and his people allowed themselves to be relieved, then followed him to the truck. Jenny was waiting there when they arrived. "This your doing?" he asked, nodding towards Fornell.

"There's nothing at this scene that's going to help us find Agent DiNozzo, is there?" she asked. Gibbs shook his head. "Then let's get to work."

* * *

Tony was beginning to have mild trouble with his breathing. The blanket covering him didn't allow much fresh air through, and its claustrophobic weight combined with increasing anxiety had started to tax his compromised lungs. There wasn't a whole lot he could do about it, though. They'd been on the go for a while now, but he had no idea for how long. What he did know was that he had no control over what was going to happen next. Brody had clearly given up on getting out of this with his career and reputation intact, which was bound to piss him off. He was already furious with Tony to start with for not just acquiescing in this long term relationship he'd decided they were having, and adding other reasons for anger clearly hadn't improved the situation any. Maybe he'd get lucky and a cop would pull them over. Even a DC cop couldn't just ignore a writhing bundle in the backseat. Better yet, someone could hit them. That would put an end to this kidnapping.

Where was Brody going to go? He'd clearly planned for a trip. The suitcases were an unsubtle hint that a journey was intended. How far? By now Tony was pretty sure they'd left DC. They'd been traveling at a steady pace without stopping for a long time, and there weren't too many places where a driver could do that in DC, not even on the Beltway. Traffic would be bound to slow, there was roadwork going on in several spots. They had to be outside DC. North? South? West? Not all that much east unless he was heading for a boat, and it would be pretty damned stupid to take a Navy cop on board a boat if you wanted to avoid getting caught.

He was rambling in his own mind now, steering clear of the certain knowledge that whenever they reached a stopping point in their journey, he was going to be either raped or killed. Or raped and then killed. He didn't think Brody was likely to go in for the fourth combination of those two possibilities. He wasn't quite that perverse.

A rhythmic tick-tick sound started, and Tony recognized the turn signal. They slowed and veered right, continuing to slow till they came to a stop. There was a wait for a few moments, like at a traffic light. Tony wished he could see where they were, but he couldn't even get much light.

They traversed surface roads for a while, and Tony heard light traffic moving around them. "We're almost there," Brody said, and Tony blinked in the dimness. Almost where?

Three or four more turns followed, and then Brody came to a stop and turned off the engine. Tony twisted his head, trying to rid himself of the enveloping blanket, but he couldn't get it to budge. He heard the front door open, and then the trunk popped. The car shook and bounced as the luggage was removed and carried away. What the hell was going on?

Time passed with no change, and Tony began to wonder if he was just going to be left there, handcuffed in the backseat of this car. Then the door by his feet opened, and the blanket was dragged off. The smells of saltwater and old fish hit his nostrils, and he knew they were by the ocean. Tony blinked in the dim light and looked around. They appeared to be inside a building, but Tony couldn't see enough to be sure what kind.

"Hurry up!" called an unfamiliar voice. "We've got a schedule to keep."

Brody leaned into the car, and Tony looked up at him apprehensively. The other man was all business, however. He unhooked one of the cuffs from around Tony's left wrist, freeing him from the car. He then dragged him out and threw him over his shoulder, one hand coming to rest familiarly on Tony's ass.

Tony peered around, trying to identify his location. It appeared to be a warehouse of some kind, probably dockside. Leaning sideways, Tony tried to see where they were headed. There was a door in the wall opposite that was open to the outside. Glare from bright sunlight made it difficult to see through it, but Tony thought he could see a boat. His whole body tensed when he recognized that Brody was walking straight for it. The hand on his butt squeezed as though to reassure him.

Tony jackknifed his body, twisting to throw himself off Brody's shoulder. He couldn't get anywhere, bound as he was, but delay was his only hope now. He had to stay off that boat until Gibbs and the others could find him. God knew where Brody would take him once they were aboard.

His movement surprised his captor, and Tony actually succeeded in flinging himself free. He landed with a thud on the floor of the warehouse, slightly winded from the nearly six foot drop. Brody let out a curse and grabbed him, tossing him back over his shoulder and holding him more securely. Tony struggled, but Brody didn't even pause. He just carried him through the building and across a gangplank onto the ship where he went below and into a very small cabin. He dumped Tony on the bunk and left him, closing the door behind as he went. Tony twisted around and discovered that he had a very limited range of movement. The cabin was fitted with a wide bunk, a table with a bench that was directly next to the bed, and the remaining floor space was nearly filled with suitcases. He couldn't see a damn thing he could use to get loose. He managed to get into a sitting position on the bed and was contemplating his options when he heard loud voices outside the door.

"I will see this other passenger!" The voice had a strong Spanish accent, and Tony felt his mouth go dry. What had Brody gotten them into?

The door burst open abruptly and a man entered, staring at Tony suspiciously. Brody was just behind him. "Eliseo knows all about it, Captain," he said, looking mildly flummoxed.

"I am aware," the captain said. Addressing Tony, he added, "You, this is my boat. You will not make trouble, or I will have you thrown overboard. Is that clear?"

Brody glowered at the man. "I will manage –"

"I will have an answer from him," the captain said, cutting Brody off. "Is that clear?" he demanded of Tony. Tony nodded, utterly terrified. He had no trouble whatsoever believing that the captain meant exactly what he said. Who were these people? "Good. Harris, you will keep him in your cabin at all times."

"My arrangements are with Eliseo, and –"

"Sr. Vargas is not here," the captain said. "This is my ship, and I do not like the situation to begin with. Do not upset me further. In fact, it would be best if you both stayed below. I will have someone bring your food to you." He looked over at Tony, and his mouth twisted with contempt. "I am sure you will find sufficient entertainment without disturbing my crew."

Tony gulped and kept his reactions internal. Clearly this man knew exactly what he was here for, and he didn't approve. That his disapproval extended to the victim as well as the attacker was equally obvious. He withdrew, leaving Brody behind. Tony felt himself start to shake as Brody came back, closed the door and began pushing the suitcases aside. He sat down beside Tony on the bed. "Hold still, let me get the gag off."

By now the fabric was disgusting and damp. Tony was glad to be rid of it. When the gag was gone, he opened his mouth and breathed in deeply. Then he said, "Brody, where are you taking me?"

"Colombia."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say thank you to everyone who has commented. Feeling a little needy at the moment, and I especially appreciate all the comments saying it reads as realistic and plausible. That's what I was aiming for.
> 
> On another topic, someone on another website commented on the previous chapter that they couldn't wait till Gibbs and Tony were in each other's arms, or words to that effect. I've seen similar comments before, back before the terrible age of no posting began (this story lay dormant for three years on FF.net until last week). I deliberately did not mark this as Gibbs/DiNozzo. If you are going to be devastated if Tony and Gibbs do not wind up in a romantic, or even an arguably pre-romantic relationship, please deal with your grief now and then enjoy the story. While I have nothing against that pairing, I do not tend to favor it in my writing, at least not so far.
> 
> This chapter contains graphic, nonconsensual sex.

Brody gazed at him somberly. "The trip to Colombia will take a couple of days."

Tony shook his head. "The ship's captain clearly doesn't want us aboard."

"He's more afraid of Sr. Vargas than he is disturbed by our presence."

"Who is Sr. Vargas?"

"An old friend of mine," Brody said. He shifted down Tony's legs and started cutting through the duct tape on his ankles. "He's giving me a job."

"What about me?" Tony asked.

"You're mine, and he understands that," Brody replied without looking up from the tape.

"Brody, I don't . . . you've got . . ." Tony couldn't think of anything to say. He moistened his lips nervously. "I want to go home, Brody." Brody's hands stopped moving, and the hand that was gripping his ankle tightened. Anger rolled off the other man in waves. Tony's fists clenched behind him as his gut twisted. After a couple of very tense moments, Brody finished cutting through the tape, then slipped Tony's shoes and socks off, the knife still open in his hand. "Brody?" Tony said, his voice quavering slightly.

Brody didn't respond immediately. He closed his knife slowly and put it in his pocket, relieving Tony's mind very slightly. He'd been half expecting to bleed. Then he turned towards Tony's head. His eyes were narrowed and there was anger glittering in them. He grabbed Tony's arms and pulled him closer. "You want to go home, do you? I do, too. I'm leaving a lot behind because of you, Tony. You had to go whine to your boss, you couldn't just see that we were meant to be together."

Tony shook his head, his gut plummeting. "Brody, I –"

Brody surged forward and bore Tony backwards onto the bed. Taking advantage of Tony's open mouth, he plunged his tongue in and began to kiss him with furious intensity. His weight pressed Tony into the mattress, putting enormous pressure on his shoulders and arms. Tony lay stunned under the assault. Brody's hands delved beneath him, fingers digging with bruising force into the flesh of his buttocks. He ended the kiss and bit down hard on Tony's neck. Tony let out a cry of pain.

"Brody, stop!"

"You're mine!" Brody snarled. "It's time you knew it." One of his hands disappeared from Tony's butt, and a moment later, Tony heard a snick. His eyes darted towards the sound and he saw the knife in Brody's hand.

"Brody?" he exclaimed. "What are you –"

Brody leaned back and took hold of Tony's shirt. He sliced up the center front of it, and Tony leaned his head back as the knife came close to his face. He brought his chin back down and stared up at Brody apprehensively. The other man closed the knife again and put it beside Tony's head. "I'm not going to cut you, Tony," Brody said, putting his hands on Tony's chest, stroking the muscles and twirling the nipples in his fingers.

"Brody, please –"

"Shut up, Tony," Brody ordered, shifting his left hand to Tony's neck. "It's been weeks since I've gotten to touch you properly, and I am not stopping for anything."

Tony looked away. "You've touched me plenty," he replied.

"Furtive grabs when I could catch you alone do not count."

"I don't want you to touch me."

"You could have shot me," Brody said, leaning down and licking the pulse point in Tony's neck. "You had your gun out, you could have shot me any time, but you didn't."

"I could have hit Gibbs," Tony said. He could have, and he'd been unwilling to risk Gibbs' life to avoid this.

"You want me, Tony," Brody breathed into his ear. "You just don't want to admit it."

"You're deluded." Brody bit him again, harder, and Tony clenched his teeth. Brody slipped his hands inside Tony's boxers and pried his buttocks apart, massaging his anus with a finger. Tony twisted away and shoved at Brody with his thighs. "Get off me!"

Brody pulled Tony's boxers down and off, stepping back away from the bunk. Tony brought his knees up, wishing there was some way to protect himself. God, he hoped Gibbs was alive. If Brody had killed him, this would all have been for nothing.

Brody began removing his own clothes, and Tony shifted further up the bed. "Can't we talk about this?" he asked.

"We've done enough talking, Tony," Brody said, dropping his clothes on the floor. He reached out and grabbed Tony's ankles, pulling down. Tony knew he had less than no chance of avoiding what was coming, but he couldn't stop himself from struggling. Using his grip on Tony's legs, Brody flipped him over and climbed onto the bed to straddle him. Tony tried to catch him in the balls, but Brody evaded the blow and grabbed Tony around the neck again, this time one-handed, but he let Tony feel the strength of his hand and the ease with which he could crush the bone and cartilage. "You will never hold back what I want from me again, Tony," he said into Tony's ear, pulling so that Tony was forced to arch his back. His other hand groped lower, sliding under Tony's belly to take a light grasp of Tony's penis. "And I want it all."

Tony stared at the wall of the cabin. The smooth beige paint offered not much to distract him from the invasion Brody was perpetrating on his body. He could feel the erection building behind him, pressing into his lower back. Brody squeezed Tony's penis rhythmically, trying to call up a response, but Tony wasn't feeling it. All he felt was revulsion and fear.

"Come on, Tony," Brody murmured. Tony felt him lean off the side of the bed and fumble with something. Then Brody removed the handcuffs and stripped the remains of his shirt from him. Tony brought his arms around and rubbed his wrists. He thought about the knife, but what would he do with a dead Brody? Anything less would just make him angry. Brody leaned over the top of him, his whole weight pinning Tony to the bed. "You know you want this, Tony, you know you need this."

Tony bit his lip. What he knew was that Brody was going to give it to him whether he wanted it or not. Warm, almost affectionate kisses against his neck made him tense. He hadn't had anything remotely resembling tenderness from Brody for some time, not since awhile before he'd put an end to the relationship. Brody sat up, and gentle hands began to stroke his back, massaging and caressing, reminiscent of occasions when things had been less rough between them. Tony's fists clenched. Brody knew him, knew his body. His fingers ghosted over erogenous zones, making Tony's body twitch. Soft kisses on his shoulder blades, fingers in his hair.

Tony twisted under him, turning to face him. "Brody, you cannot make love to me against my will," he growled.

Brody smiled down at him. "No, I can't, can I?" he murmured, bending to press a kiss to Tony's collarbone. Fingers teased and touched, rubbing his nipples, caressing the sensitive skin above his ribs. Tongue and teeth toyed with him, and against his will, Tony began to react, his penis starting to fill and grow hard. Brody chuckled, and Tony looked away. "See, Tony, you want this," he said, his hand closing once more around Tony's cock. The rhythmic pressure now created a response, one Tony couldn't control.

Tony realized abruptly that he was doing it again. He was lying still under Brody's efforts, trying to tell him by simple passivity that what he was doing was unwanted. He was done playing victim. He grabbed Brody's wrists and tried to pull the other man's hands away from his body. "I told you no, Brody," he said angrily. "What don't you understand about no?"

Brody shook his hands off and grabbed his wrists, pushing them back down on the bed, their groins pressing together, sending sparks of pleasure through Tony. Tony felt helpless and vulnerable. More so even than when he had lain unresisting. Brody shifted, grinding their penises together, and Tony clenched his teeth against the feelings that rippled through him at the unwanted stimulation. "You're mine, Tony. Body and soul."

Tony started to protest that he didn't want this, that he didn't know why he was reacting, but Brody cut his words short by kissing him. Tony writhed underneath him, struggling to get free, wanting to be away from the pleasure that was shooting to his groin. He wanted to bite down on the invading tongue, but he didn't want Brody to get angry again. He was trapped in more ways than one. Even if he could get away from Brody, no one on this ship would help him. He'd wind up either back in here or taking a very long swim.

Gibbs would find him. He had to believe that. Gibbs and McGee and Ziva. They wouldn't give up, they'd search. But how the hell were they going to find him on a ship to Colombia? And what would happen if they did find him? How would the captain react to an order by the US Navy to stand by for boarders?

Brody drew back for air. "Come on, Tony," he said, his lips still in contact with Tony's. He forced Tony's arms up off the mattress and placed them on his own shoulders. "Make me happy."

The moment Brody released his wrists, Tony took his arms back, flattening them against the mattress, his hands balling into fists. Brody nuzzled his neck, not seeming overly upset by Tony's failure to participate. Tony's distress had lessened his erection, and Tony found that a relief. Brody, however, seemed to regard it as a challenge, and he returned to his gentle caresses and kisses with a will. Tony pushed up against him again, and Brody grabbed his wrists harder this time. "You're starting to piss me off," he muttered, his eyes glittering with anger as Tony tried fruitlessly to free himself from the iron grip. "Or do you want the cuffs back on?" He grinned suddenly. "Is that what you want, Tony? For me to take full control?"

Tony shook his head, his breath coming in short gasps. "I just want you to stop," he said. Brody sat back, scanning the walls around the bed. He got off the bed and went to one of the suitcases. Tony sat up, bringing his knees to his chest again and curling up in the corner. "Brody, what are you doing?"

Brody picked up one of the suitcases and put it on top of the other two. He opened it and dug out two ties. Tony had seen them before. Brody had worn them, and Tony had told him how very ugly they were. Brody turned towards him with a grin. "If I'm going to ruin a couple of ties, I guess they'd better be your least favorite. I'll need good business attire for the job with Eliseo."

Tony shook his head. "Brody, don't tie me up. God, please don't tie me up."

"You want controlling, Tony," Brody said with an unholy grin. "That's clear, and I like the idea of you struggling beneath me. If you won't join in, that will do nicely." He climbed back onto the bed and grabbed Tony's arm, quickly knotting the wide end of the tie around it.

"Brody, stop this!" Tony said, desperately trying to pull his arm away. Brody threaded the narrow end of the tie through a ring on the side of the bed that was meant to hold nets that would keep a sleeper in place during rough seas. He tied it tightly, pulling Tony sideways as he did so. Tony yanked on the bond. "Brody –"

Brody covered Tony's mouth with his hand, pressing Tony's shoulders and head against the wall above the bunk as he leaned close. Tony stared at him apprehensively. "The only reason I'm not gagging you is that I like your mouth, but I doubt these walls are thick. Do you really want the crew of this boat to hear you begging?"

Given that they were probably already disgusted by the "faggots" they were transporting, Tony would rather they not be aware of him at all. He fell silent with a shuddering breath.

"Don't worry, Tony, I won't let anyone hurt you," Brody said, kissing Tony on the forehead. Then he looped the second tie around Tony's right wrist and tied it securely to a ring in the wall. Brody leaned back, grinning broadly. "You never fought me before, and I didn't think you were into that, but I'm really beginning to love this idea." He grabbed Tony's ankles again and pulled him flat on the bed, his arms stretched out on either side of him. Tony couldn't stop himself from pulling against the silk ties that held him in place or from trying to free his legs from Brody's grasp. "God, you're gorgeous," Brody said. "Look at those muscles straining."

Tony couldn't believe this. He'd just told Gibbs that there was no real bondage in this relationship, but apparently Brody was totally into it. If he'd actually tried to fight him off before, he'd have found out sooner. Brody returned to play, and now Tony couldn't even try to stop him. His legs were pinned by Brody's weight, and the ties were holding firm. Brody's hands and mouth went everywhere, doing all the things he knew Tony enjoyed. Tony tried hard not to react, but his body liked what it was feeling. He didn't understand. He didn't want this, he hated being tied up, and he didn't want Brody, but his body wouldn't stop responding. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself away from his treacherous body.

Brody picked up a tube of Astroglide, and Tony thumped his head against the mattress. He didn't want to watch Brody prepare himself. The sound was bad enough. Then Brody lifted Tony's legs and draped them over his shoulders. Tony thought seriously about kicking him, but he was in a really bad position. He had a strong suspicion that killing Brody would come under the heading of 'making trouble' so far as the captain was concerned, and he didn't have any way off this boat. It sounded like only Brody's leverage with Sr. Vargas was keeping them alive to begin with.

Brody parted Tony's butt cheeks and inserted both his thumbs into Tony's anus. Tony let out a gasp of pain at the sudden intrusion. "Damn it, Brody, it's been weeks!"

Brody stopped moving for a moment, looking up to meet Tony's eyes, skepticism evident in his expression. "You weren't fucking Gibbs? You've been staying with him, he's your 'friend.'"

"Are you completely nuts?" Tony demanded.

"You had to be getting it somewhere. You like it too much to just give it up."

Tony ground his teeth. "I haven't had sex since the last time with you, not even with a woman."

Brody grinned. "And you claim you don't want me."

"You'd been forcing me off and on for weeks," Tony snapped. "Look, if we're going to talk, could you get your hands out of my –" He broke off with a yelp as Brody began stretching again.

"Talking is overrated," Brody said, and he bit the inside of Tony's thigh as he continued to prepare him. Tony wished he knew what he could say to persuade Brody that this wasn't something he wanted. Maybe there was no way. Maybe there never had been.

Brody's thumbs left Tony's body, and he felt a new pressure. Tony closed his eyes as Brody pushed inside him, slowly filling him, his hands lifting Tony's body to change the angle of penetration, shifting gradually forward till Tony could feel Brody's testicles smacking against him. Tony clenched his teeth. This felt so familiar and so wrong. Brody began to withdraw, and Tony shook his head. He knew what was coming. When he was almost all the way out, Brody thrust forward again. Tony lay helpless under the assault. Brody grabbed his penis again, squeezing and stroking as he thrust in and out.

Slowly, inevitably, Tony began to feel disconnected. His body was working towards orgasm without him. He felt himself thrusting into Brody's hand, and he buried as much of his face as he could in the pillow beneath him, forcing his body to stop moving. He didn't want it. He didn't want Brody.

His orgasm was weak, The cum dribbled out of him, and he barely felt it. Brody let out a hoarse cry a moment later, and Tony felt him ejaculate inside him, his semen pumping into Tony's body. He collapsed then, next to Tony, his head resting on Tony's arm. "We're out of practice," he murmured. "Next time will be better for you."

Tony's head was turned away. He didn't have any words to respond to Brody's comment. Brody reached out and took his chin in his hand, turning his head so that they were facing each other. He leaned forward to kiss Tony, but Tony turned away again.

"I suppose you'll want to get cleaned up," Brody said, running his hand proprietarily down Tony's body. "You never did like to wait."

"Where's the head?" Tony asked, his voice shaking as a possessive hand stroked circles on his belly. He had to get away, but he had nowhere to go.

"The what?" Brody sounded startled.

"The head," Tony repeated. "The bathroom facilities."

Brody untied Tony's wrists. "There's a door beyond our feet. We have our own private . . . head."

Tony pushed himself upright and got off the bed. There was a bit of mess from their activities. "You know, we'll probably have to sleep in whatever mess we make," he said, feeling strangely numb as he looked at the stain on the blanket. "They're not going to provide us with clean sheets."

Brody shrugged, and Tony went into the head. It was small but definitely private. There was a shower just big enough to stand up in, a toilet and a sink with a metal mirror over it. Tony spent a long time in the shower, getting clean and then trying to feel clean. When he'd let Brody do it to him before, he'd never orgasmed. This time he'd tried to fight him off, but he'd cum, however pathetically. He didn't know what that meant.

Finally, Tony got out of the shower. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his body, not looking at himself in the mirror. The blanket off the bed lay in a crumpled heap on the table, and Brody was spreading a new one out. "I asked for an extra blanket," Brody said. "I'll rinse that one and it can dry over the suitcases."

Tony nodded miserably. "Do I have any clothes?"

"The big suitcase," Brody said. "I'm going to take my shower now." He leaned close to try and kiss him, but Tony turned away. Brody disappeared into the head with the blanket, and Tony wrestled the big suitcase onto the bunk. When he opened it, he just stared for a long moment. It was his stuff. Not just stuff that would fit him, but his actual clothing and toiletries. He grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out, pulling them on before closing the suitcase and putting it back down on the floor. He climbed over to sit on the bench behind the table and put his head down on his arms.

He wanted to go home, right now. God, he hoped Gibbs was okay.

* * *

"Jethro, I would really like to do an x-ray of your skull," Ducky said for the umpteenth time.

Gibbs scowled at his computer and ignored the request. He thought he'd gotten rid of Ducky after the last attempt the ME had made to drag him down to autopsy for an x-ray. Quite frankly, he was more worried about DiNozzo than about the state of his skull, and he doubted sincerely that he'd broken anything. The bastard hadn't hit him that hard. "Anything from the BOLOs?" he demanded loudly.

McGee shook his head. "Nothing useful, anyway," he amended. "Metro PD and the surrounding counties are stopping red Sonatas left, right and sideways, but they all seem to be legit."

Gibbs nodded. "And the ones on Harris and DiNozzo?"

"We've had a few reports on people who match their descriptions, but nothing that ties to them. It's like they vanished."

"People don't vanish, McGee!" Gibbs thundered, and McGee set back to work tracing credit card and other financial transactions. Unfortunately, by the time they'd really gotten started looking, Harris had secured a 90 minute lead for himself. Gibbs had sent Ziva to help the FBI comb Harris's apartment, to make sure they didn't miss anything significant. He knew Fornell was annoyed by the implied lack of trust, but he wasn't screwing around anymore. DiNozzo was in deadly danger, and it was his fault that the bastard had gotten hold of him.

Ziva, Fornell and Sacks walked into the squad room, and Gibbs looked up. Ziva marched up to his desk and started reporting before he had a chance to ask. "He has left, Gibbs. Very little clothing remains, and his personal effects are gone. We brought his computer in."

"I figured you'd want McGee and Abby to look it over," Fornell said. "Otherwise I'd have taken it to my guys."

The phone on Gibbs' desk rang, and he picked it up. "Gibbs."

"Mr. Gibbs, this is Marian Ekstrom, the manager of Tony DiNozzo's building."

Gibbs blinked. "Yes?"

"I've been trying to get hold of Mr. DiNozzo for the last several hours, but he's not answering either his cell phone or the number I show for his office. I show you as his emergency contact."

"Is there an emergency?" Gibbs asked as calmly as he could manage.

"His apartment has been broken into. I've called the police, but I can't tell them if anything is –"

"Are the police there now?" Gibbs demanded.

"Yes. The maintenance man is with them, but can you get Mr. DiNozzo to come down and –"

"Someone will be there shortly." He put the phone down and started gearing up. "Fornell, were you aware that DiNozzo's apartment has been burgled?" he asked.

"Burgled?" Fornell repeated, eyes wide. "No, I had some guys going down to –" His cell phone rang, and he picked it up. "Fornell. What? Yes, I know. They're what? Get Metro out of there and take over the scene yourself. Now!" He hung up and glared around. "I'm going to have some heads on platters over this one."

Gibbs heard him, but he was already halfway to the elevator. "McGee, keep looking. Ziva, with me." Fornell and Sacks slipped into the elevator just as it closed.

"I'm parked just outside," Fornell announced, and Gibbs nodded. They made for the black SUV and Gibbs walked straight for the driver's door. He put out his hand, and Fornell hesitated for a just moment before handing him the keys and getting in the back door on that side. Gibbs drove quickly and efficiently to the apartment building, ignoring the gasps and furtive grabs for the handles. Ziva was the calmest of his passengers, but she was also the most used to his driving. He parked on the street and made straight for the elevator, the others following behind him.

When he arrived outside Tony's apartment, he found a crowd gathered as the local police engaged in a shouting match with Fornell's men. "A burglary is not federal jurisdiction," snarled a man Gibbs recognized vaguely from one of the cases they'd worked where they'd had to consult DC Metro. Detective O'Hara, he thought.

"It is when the victim is a federal agent who has gone missing," snapped Fornell's man.

"We only have your word for it that he hasn't just walked off the job," O'Hara replied. "It hasn't even been six hours. Adults aren't declared missing that quickly."

Fornell put a hand on Gibbs' arm to prevent him from speaking. "They are when there's a witness to the abduction," Fornell said, pushing through the crowd. "Now, this is a federal crime scene, and your captain isn't going to be real thrilled with you for interfering."

"His captain is less than thrilled with the FBI and NCIS for playing jurisdictional games," said a voice that was all too familiar to Gibbs. He turned to see Martin Carvaggio walking up. They'd dealt with Carvaggio before, but Gibbs hadn't been aware that he'd made his way so far up the pecking order. The Peter Principle in action, obviously. Carvaggio spread his hands wide, giving Fornell and Gibbs equal measures of insincere friendliness. "A burglary in this part of DC is –"

"None of your God damned business," Gibbs snarled. "Fornell, get these bastards out of here before I shoot someone."

Sacks held out a phone. "Got the chief on the line," he said. "Captain Carvaggio?"

Eyes narrowing, Carvaggio took the phone and turned away. Within a few moments, he was drawing his men away and leaving the field to Fornell and Gibbs.

Gibbs strode into Tony's apartment and looked around, keeping his hands close to his sides so as not to risk disturbing any evidence. The place looked less like it had been robbed than like someone had packed hastily for a trip, but he could see both of Tony's suitcases in the closet. However, there were several suits missing, and it was clear that someone had ransacked Tony's drawers for clothing.

"Wasn't he staying with you, Gibbs?" Fornell asked.

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, is this how he left the place when he came to pack up?"

Gibbs shook his head. "We were here this morning. The apartment was neat and normal."

"This morning? Why?"

"Because Tony forgot to pack something," Gibbs said shortly. He wasn't really interested in going into detail about the need for high necked shirts with so many people around. "Regardless, I think his service comes in on Wednesdays. The place was neat and tidy when we came this morning."

"Let my guys handle the forensics," Fornell said, holding up a hand as Ziva started to get to work. She turned to Gibbs, but he just nodded. "You guys should probably get back to looking at the tips, but this is good news, you know?"

Gibbs nodded. "We're taking the SUV," he said as he left the room, gathering Ziva with a glance.

Fornell made a half-hearted protest, but he didn't follow him out of the room. Once they were in the elevator, Ziva turned to him with a puzzled look. "Why is it good news that Tony's apartment has been robbed?"

"If he's taking Tony's stuff, he's probably not planning on killing him," Gibbs said without inflection. The relief he felt went unacknowledged beneath the heavy load of guilt. He should have taken steps sooner. He should have seen how obsessed Harris was earlier. Hell, he should have seen that Tony was in an unhealthy relationship weeks ago.

"Not immediately, certainly," Ziva said. "But if he is as obsessed as you say, there is no telling when that might change. That kind of obsession does not see its target as an individual. When Tony does not do what he expects, he may –"

"We'll find him before the blush is off the rose, Ziva," Gibbs said, cutting her off. He pressed the button on the key chain to unlock the SUV.

Sensitive to his mood, she didn't speak again as he drove with more speed than safety to the Navy Yards. Evidently McGee and Abby didn't have anything yet. They would have called. Damn it. DiNozzo was counting on all of them and they were failing him. Gibbs most of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know, the Peter Principle is a concept in management theory that states, more or less, that in a bureaucracy, workers tend to be promoted till they reach their level of incompetence. I first encountered it in the Murphy's Law books by Arthur Bloch that were published in the late 70s. They were kicking around my house when I was growing up.
> 
> If you're interested in the concept, here is the Wikipedia page on the subject: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_principle


	9. Chapter 9

Tony looked up nervously when the door opened. A man walked in with a tray of food and Tony leaned back so that there would be someplace to put it down. He looked away, not wanting to see the stranger's expression. He wasn't sure how he was going to meet anyone's eyes ever again. There was clearly something wrong with him.

The sailor leaned across the suitcases and put the tray on the table. "Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony's head snapped forward and he stared at the man in shock. "Seaman Thompson?" he exclaimed.

Thompson looked over at the door to the head, where the sounds of Brody's shower could clearly be heard, and then he looked at all of Tony that he could see. Tony hadn't dressed to hide his situation. There hadn't seemed to be much point. Thompson's eyes took in the bite marks on his neck and the bruising up and down his arms, and he grinned. "You are fucked up," he said. Tony didn't say anything, he just looked away. Thompson laughed and pulled the door shut behind him.

Tony buried his face in his hands. Just what he needed. A dishonest, drug dealing naval washout that he'd personally arrested and put in prison coming in to see him like this. Would he tell the captain? How would the captain react to having an NCIS agent on his ship? Did he already know?

The food smelled nauseating. The door to the head opened and Tony glanced up to see Brody still pulling his shirt on. He draped the blanket over the suitcases and came over to sit next to Tony, making him feel even more trapped. Now he'd have to go over the table to get out of the room.

"What's wrong?" Brody asked, putting a hand on Tony's knee. "I thought sure you'd be hungry by now. You haven't eaten in hours."

Tony shook his head. "I'm not," he said. "Eat all you want."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost. A man I put in prison four years ago."

Brody's hand tightened. "He say anything? Do anything?"

Tony shook his head and tried to pull his leg away. "No, he didn't, not that it matters. Does the captain know who I am, Brody?"

"What do you mean, does he know who you are?" Brody pulled the tray over, took a plate and started loading it with food.

"Does he know that I'm NCIS?"

"You're not."

Tony blinked and looked over at the huge man beside him. "Yes, I am."

"I'm pretty sure agreeing to go with me was as good as signing your resignation, Tony," Brody said, putting his hand on the back of Tony's neck and squeezing lightly. In another situation, with another man, it might have felt like a friendly gesture, but at the moment all it did was highlight how much power Brody held over him.

"Even if . . . even so," Tony said, revising his words on the fly. "I _was_ NCIS, and a ship's captain might find that a bit alarming, don't you think?"

"Don't know why, you people don't hold any power over civilians, do you?"

Tony shook his head. Brody clearly had no real understanding of what Tony's job could entail. "Okay, but . . . Gibbs isn't dead, right?"

"I didn't hit him that hard, Tony. I'm sure he's fine."

"Then he's going to be looking for me, and the fact that NCIS is looking for me might –"

"There's no way in hell that dumb grunt is going to find us, Tony," Brody said. He put an arm around Tony and pulled him closer, shoving the plate in front of him. "Eat. You're going to need your strength."

Tony shook his head. "I don't want to eat anything, Brody. I feel sick." The entire right side of Tony's body was pressed against Brody, which didn't increase his appetite any.

"Are you seasick?" Brody asked with concern.

"No!" Tony snapped. "I'm not seasick. I just got raped, and someone I once arrested thinks it's funny. I find that a little stressful."

Brody's hand had been resting on Tony's shoulder. Now it squeezed down tightly, and Tony could almost feel bruises forming. Fear shuddered through him as Brody spoke. "You have not been raped, Tony, take that back."

Tony closed his eyes and brought his right hand up to cover his face. He didn't know what to say, but he had to get out of here. He had to get away from Brody before . . . before . . .

Brody grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. Tony felt himself start to shake all over. He couldn't even display honest emotions. "Take it back, Tony. I am not a rapist."

"You know, oddly enough, I told Gibbs that yesterday," Tony said, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to deny that what had happened in this room had been rape.

"Then why did you just say that?"

"I said no, Brody. I told you I didn't want to, but –"

"You wanted to, Tony. You came."

Using his left hand, Tony pushed the plate towards Brody. "Eat, would you? Maybe it will put you in a better mood."

Brody turned Tony to face him, shoving him against the wall and glaring at him. The table dug into Tony's ribs, and Brody's hands on his upper arms felt like iron bands. "What did you say to me earlier about making love?"

"Brody, please, I –"

Brody shook him, bouncing his head against the wall. "What did you say?"

"That you couldn't do it against my will," Tony said unwillingly, not meeting Brody's eyes.

"So, I made love to you, you got hard, you ejaculated. If I can't do that to you against your will, then I didn't rape you, did I?"

Tony shook his head. "That isn't –"

Brody shook him again and he broke off. "Did I rape you?"

Tony bit his lip and took a deep breath. "No, Brody, of course not," he said, his voice tremulous. "Of course not."

Brody leaned forward and kissed Tony full on the mouth, pressing him back against the wall. When he made it clear with his tongue that he wanted to deepen the kiss, Tony opened his mouth. He couldn't stop him, that was clear. What was the point in making him even angrier than he already was? After a long, intense kiss, Brody leaned back, releasing his arms. He pushed the plate back in front of Tony. "Now eat."

Tony turned to face the table again, looking down at the food. He picked up a fork and scooped a load of mashed potatoes onto it. He wouldn't put it past Brody to try and force food into him, and that would be worse than humiliating. He took a bite and forced it down. Brody nodded once, then turned to his own food.

Not for the first time in his life, Tony wished for a dog to sneak food to. His father had never stood for picky appetites, and Tony had spent more time at the family dinner table staring at plates of cooling food that he didn't want than he liked to think about. A dog would have come in handy then just as it would now. He forced himself to eat about half the plate, then shoved it away, hoping that Brody was a less stern taskmaster than his father had been.

Brody didn't comment, he just ate his own food with a gusto that did nothing for the nausea in Tony's gut. He turned away, trying to ignore Brody and his food, but he couldn't help hearing the other man eat, and he couldn't avoid feeling the heat of Brody's body, so close to his.

The door opened abruptly and a pair of sailors walked in, both carrying automatic weapons. "The captain wants to see you both," one of them said in a heavy Portuguese accent.

Tony closed his eyes. This could not be good.

"What's going on?" Brody asked, and Tony shoved him. "What?"

"We're on a ship and they've got AK-47s," Tony said in an undertone. "Why don't we go find out what the captain wants?"

Brody looked at the negligently held weapons and sighed thoughtfully. He got up and climbed over the suitcases. Tony followed him, wishing now that he had at least pulled out a jacket. There were two more guys in the companionway. One guy went in front of them and the other followed behind, and the other two went into the cabin. Tony imagined there would be much clean up required in there after this conversation with the captain. He just hoped that he would be one of the ones doing it.

The walk up to the bridge was silent. Tony kept moving and they seemed reluctant to shove Brody. Tony wondered whether Brody was going to approach the captain in the same aggressive mood he'd been displaying so far. He hoped not. As soon as they got on the bridge, Tony scanned the surrounding seascape and saw no sign of land on any side. The sun was dipping below the horizon to the west, and the reddish light reflected off the water.

"Strip them both," the captain ordered, and Tony's head snapped around to face him.

Brody stepped in front of Tony and said, "What's going on here?"

"Either you did not inform Sr. Vargas, or Sr. Vargas neglected to inform me that your catamite is an NCIS agent."

"A former NCIS agent," Brody corrected. "Why does that mean you get to strip him?"

"I want to make sure he carries nothing that could lead your navy to us. He might have allowed himself to be taken by you to obtain information about Sr. Vargas' operations."

Tony ran his hands through his hair and stepped forward. "You want to make sure I'm not wearing a wire or any kind of transmitter?" he asked, and the captain nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Fine." He pulled his shirt off and put his hands on the waistband of his pants, but Brody caught his wrists.

"We are not prisoners aboard this ship," Brody protested. Tony wanted to say _speak for yourself_ but he kept silent.

"That can change," the captain said, and Tony saw that several of the sailors were now pointing their weapons at Brody and at him.

"Brody, I'd really like not to get shot," he hissed.

"Release him," the captain said. "I will have one of my men check him for transmitters, and then we will check you." Brody didn't immediately move, and there were ratcheting sounds from all around them. Brody let Tony's wrists go, and Tony, his teeth clenched at the certain knowledge of what everyone on the bridge was about to see, removed his pants. He hadn't bothered with socks or shoes, so he was now naked as a jaybird. At a gesture from the captain, two men with AK-47s stepped between Tony and Brody, and another man dropped his weapon to hang from its strap over his shoulder and shoved Tony up against one of the consoles, ordering him gruffly in Spanish to spread his legs and stand still. Tony followed the instructions and grimaced at the man's rough probing. Brody was spouting curse words, but he didn't try to push his way through the AK-47s. Since without Brody these men would have no reason to keep Tony alive, that relieved him somewhat.

" _Nada_ ," the man reported, and Tony was released to put his clothes back on. They all turned towards Brody, who reluctantly stripped as well and allowed a cavity search. Tony was shaking all over. He didn't know if they'd be sent back to their cabin or if they'd be shot, or if they'd be separated. On the one hand that could be good, on the other . . . gay bashing was not unheard of. And it was a true fact that not all men who despised homosexuals were above making use of a man's body when it was convenient. He was known by everyone in the room to be the 'girl' in this relationship, and he had no protection on this ship aside from Brody. If he were deprived of that, things could get pretty ugly. Not that they were attractive now.

Then he noticed Thompson watching the whole thing with a broad grin, and it made him want to strangle the bastard. "He's clean," said the guys searching Brody.

The captain nodded. "Take him to crew quarters and keep him there till I give you other orders."

As the guards hustled Brody towards the door, Brody said, "What about Tony?"

"I have questions for him. Go, or I will kill you both." Brody looked at Tony with worry in his eyes. Tony looked away. He couldn't bring himself to send reassuring messages to a man who was going to rape him again at his earliest opportunity. The sounds of a scuffle disappeared down the hallway, and Tony looked up to see what the captain wanted from him. The man was looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Take him to my cabin and I will be there in a moment."

Tony went quietly with the guards, hoping he wasn't walking to his death. This Vargas guy had a reason to want Brody, but Tony could be nothing but a liability. For all he knew, they were going to kill him while Brody couldn't watch. They took him to a cabin that was considerably better appointed than the one he and Brody shared, but that was no shock. " _Siéntase allí_ ," the guard ordered, pointing to a desk chair. Tony sat down immediately, looking around. It seemed unlikely somehow that the captain would order him shot in his own cabin.

The guard came around behind him and handcuffed him, threading the cuffs through the back of the chair to hold Tony in place. This whole restraint thing was getting kind of old. One of the guards stepped outside, the other stayed inside, his back to the door. Tony looked up at him curiously, but the man didn't seem interested in looking back.

The captain showed up very shortly, and Tony wasn't sure whether to give him an ingratiating smile – which could be misinterpreted by a homophobe under these circumstances – or whether to look sullen, or worried, or angry. He was afraid he wound up looking either confused or schizophrenic.

"Agent DiNozzo," the captain said, and Tony nodded nervously. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

"It would really piss my boss off," Tony said. "And he's kind of on the relentless side. Think Ahab, only with a better track record."

"Oh really? Thompson tells me that you specialize in undercover work. Is that what you're doing here?"

"Thompson is misinformed," Tony replied. Admittedly, arresting Thompson had required a bit of undercover work. Okay, a week of undercover work drawing the bastard out and getting him to actually make the moves required to catch him. It had taken time and had beyond a doubt created bad feelings. Undercover work had a tendency to do that on the parts of those who were not undercover. That guy on _NUMB3RS_ found that out. Nearly lost all his friends, his team, the whole nine yards. Admittedly that was fiction, but it wasn't far off the truth.

"You don't do undercover work?" the captain asked.

Tony blinked at him. "Do you have a name?" he asked. "Because much longer and I'm liable to make one up."

"What do I care if you make one up?" the captain asked.

"Do you really want me thinking of you as Blackbeard or Captain Morgan?" He gestured with his foot to imitate the popular series of commercials.

The man's eyebrows went up. "You could always try _el capitán_ ," he suggested, his voice hinting that his patience was wearing thin.

" _El capitán_ works for me," Tony said hastily.

"Good," _el capitán_ said. "Are you telling me you do not do undercover work?"

"Of course I do undercover work," Tony said. "Everyone at NCIS does from time to time. But that's not what's happening now."

"This relationship between you and that _cabrón_ , it is not a cover?"

"God, no!" Tony exclaimed. "I . . . this is an abduction. I thought you knew that."

"An abduction onto this ship would be a good cover for infiltration, assuming you believed that Sr. Harris was involved in illegal activities."

Tony shook his head. "So far as we knew, Brody was clean," he said.

"Then why this flight?"

Tony shrugged, wincing as that movement made his wrists catch on the cuffs. "My boss and the director were going after him for harassment and assault. I don't know, other than that. I didn't expect it, and I didn't want it. You know, NCIS will pay to get me back."

"You are close to the director of NCIS?"

"Um . . . well, I work at the Navy Yards. Her office is just upstairs, you know, so she's not that far away. I don't know what you mean by close –"

" _Callaté_!" _el capitán_ growled and Tony broke off. "She is interested in your affairs?" he asked.

"This isn't an affair!" Tony exclaimed. "Brody –"

"I do not mean it in your American sense of 'romance,'" _el capitán_ said irritably. "I mean she interests herself in your business?"

Tony shrugged, not wanting to commit himself. For one thing, his tone might just be a little bitter, and he didn't really want to give that impression. That would imply a very close relationship, and he wasn't sure that was wise under the circumstances.

"She is pursuing a case against Sr. Harris?"

Tony bit his lip. "Look, I'm not undercover. I'm here entirely against my will, my boss was knocked out and I still don't know how badly Brody hurt him, and I believe you could get a ransom for me from NCIS."

"Do you really think your agency would offer enough money to make me risk my contract with Sr. Vargas?"

This was a question Tony didn't really have an answer for. He moistened his lips. "I don't know what would be enough to make you risk that contract," he said. "What are you going to do with me? I'm not working undercover, I don't want to be here, and if you let me go, you'd look like the good guy."

"Things are rarely so simple, and I am not a fool." He stepped outside and Tony looked up at the ceiling. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this. _El capitán_ was gone for a while, and Tony grew more anxious the longer he stayed away. For one thing, Brody had to getting pretty frustrated and upset, and Tony was reasonably sure he knew who would take the brunt of it when – if – he was returned to their cabin.

Finally, the door opened and Tony stared uneasily up at _el capitán_ , who was giving nothing away with his expression. "Take him back to his friend."

"No!" Tony exclaimed involuntarily. "Please don't."

 _El capitán_ sent his men back outside and shut the door. "You are on this ship for Sr. Harris. Without him, there is no reason to keep you. Besides, if I left you in a cabin alone, you would have no protection at all." That this mirrored Tony's own thoughts was no consolation. _El capitán_ leaned closer. "I know Sr. Thompson would be excited to get you alone." Tony didn't say anything else, and _el capitán_ opened his door. "Take him to his friend."

Tony didn't protest again. He just let himself be taken along the companionways back to the cabin he shared with Brody. When the guards opened the door ahead of him, he heard Brody's angry voice. "Where is he, damn it? He's mine!"

The guards shoved Tony inside and shut the door. Brody was on him in an instant, first embracing him and then starting to strip his clothes off him. Tony tried to push away, a little overwhelmed. "Brody, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice shaking. Brody's hands stilled, and he took Tony's arms and held him so that their faces were inches apart.

"What did he do to you? Did he fuck you? What did he want with you?"

"He asked me questions, that's all," Tony said. "He wanted to know if I was working undercover, if that's why I was here."

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth," Tony said, keeping it simple. He didn't really want to tell Brody the specifics of what he'd told _el capitán_. After his reaction to the word 'rape' earlier in the evening, he didn't think Brody would react very well to the news that Tony was telling people he was here against his will or that he had begged not to be reunited with him.

Brody pulled him close and kissed him passionately. Tony put his hands on Brody's shoulders and shoved, kicking Brody's shins when that didn't work. Brody slammed him back against the wall, using his size and weight against Tony, robbing his kicks of force. He took Tony's wrists in one hand again and put the other behind Tony's head, tilting it forcibly and kissing with urgent need. Tony was beginning to feel like a doll in the hands of a possessive and violent child. Panic rising with every second, he bit down on the tongue that invaded his mouth.

Brody drew back and slapped Tony hard across the face. Then he took Tony by the throat. "Don't do that, Tony. You're mine and you know it."

Tony could feel his air being constricted, and he began to fight in earnest. Anything that even hinted of asphyxiation pushed his panic buttons these days, and he lost control. Brody eased up on his windpipe, but leaned against him, his whole body pressing against Tony's to keep him still. "I'm not really going to hurt you, Tony," he said, his voice a low growl. Tony's stomach twisted and started to reverse itself as Brody pressed close. "But you will never bite me again, not like that."

"Brody, I'm going to throw up," Tony said, his voice muffled by efforts to keep from vomiting.

"You barely ate."

"I'm going to throw up," Tony repeated. "Unless you want to wear –" He clenched his jaws shut against the heave that shook his body. In this position, Brody couldn't help but feel the convulsive movement, and he shifted back. Tony shot forward into the head and flung up the lid. He didn't have much in his stomach, but he retched it all up, then sank back against the wall next to the toilet, shaking and trying to control dry heaves.


	10. Chapter 10

“So, what’s missing?” Fornell asked at long last.

Abby stood back with her arms crossed.  Gibbs and Ziva had brought her back at Fornell’s request for someone – anyone – who knew more about DiNozzo’s apartment.  “Several suits, most of his shoes and other clothing, his toiletries kit.  I hope we get that back.  He’ll freak if we don’t.  It was expensive and it was a gift from his grandmother.”

“Anything of moment?”

“Depends on what you mean,” Abby said.  “His passport and bank documents are still in his desk, but the pictures of Tony’s mom and his grandma are gone from the dresser, and three of his DVDs are missing.”

“Which ones?”

Abby shrugged and walked out into the living room.  “I don’t know, but Tony is anal about keeping them neat and there are three holes in the rows.”  She gestured at three narrow gaps, and Gibbs nodded, pursing his lips.  He had noticed them, but he hadn’t thought anything of it.

“Put that together with the destroyed photographs, and it paints a very disturbing picture,” Ziva said.

“You think?” Gibbs replied.

“What photographs?” Abby asked.

“Team pictures,” Ziva said.  “And one of Tony with you at some concert somewhere.”

“Why would he destroy those?” Abby asked.

“Because he’s a possessive, jealous psychopath who thinks we’re a threat,” Gibbs replied absently, forgetting who he was with.  McGee would simply have nodded his understanding.

“We are a threat,” Ziva said in a low, hostile voice.

“Damn straight,” Abby added.  Gibbs agreed with both sentiments, but he could see a couple of Fornell’s men looking slightly alarmed by their bloodthirstiness.

“That’s not the kind of threat I meant,” Gibbs said mildly.

Ziva shrugged, but Abby turned abruptly to Fornell and took the FBI agent by the tie.  “You will find my Tony!” she ordered firmly.  Then she released him and turned towards Gibbs and Ziva.  “I have to go back to work.  Ziva?”

Ziva’s brows went up, but she nodded.  “I will drive.”  Gibbs watched them leave together in perfect amity with raised eyebrows.  Abby was going to let Ziva drive?

“Are they taking my SUV?” Fornell asked after they were gone.

“No, I drove Abby here and Ziva brought a car from our lot,” Gibbs said.  “Are you done here?”

“Personally, yes.  The evidence team will be busy for a while.”

“Can you drop me by the Navy Yards?”

“Sure.”

Fornell and Sacks walked down with him, and once they were all in the SUV and on their way, Fornell cleared his throat.  “So, Gibbs, I still don’t have a clear idea of what this Harris guy wants from DiNutso.”

Gibbs shrugged.  “He’s abducted him, what more do you need to know?”

“What would make a decorated cop turn off the straight and narrow like this?” Agent Sacks asked from the backseat.  “It seems like a big departure.”

Gibbs was aware of Fornell giving his subordinate an irritated look, but he turned back to Gibbs almost immediately.  “I’m sorry, Gibbs, but motive can be really important in cases like this one.  It just doesn’t make sense.”

Gibbs pursed his lips.  DiNozzo was going to kill him for letting this out to Sacks and Fornell, but the other agent made a reasonable point.  “So, Tobias,” he said.  “Would it make more sense to you if it was Ziva he’d taken rather than DiNozzo?”

“Well, I could see the . . .”  Fornell trailed off and Gibbs wondered if they were going to hit the Cadillac stopped at the light in front of them.  The SUV came to a sudden stop and Fornell turned to him.  “You aren’t serious?”

“He’s been stalking DiNozzo for weeks,” Gibbs said.

“You only asked for my help on Wednesday.”

Gibbs grimaced, guilt surging in his gut.  “I only realized it on Tuesday.  He’s been sexually assaulted before, twice this week in fact, but DiNozzo was trying to deal with it himself.”

“Are you saying he’s been raped?” Sacks demanded.  Gibbs gave Fornell a look, and the other man nodded.  When Sacks started to ask the question again, Fornell silenced him with glance.

Both the other men were quiet the rest of the way to NCIS.  Gibbs simmered, acid churning in his gut.  DiNozzo had been with the bastard for hours now.  There was no knowing what had happened since he’d been driven away in that car.

“Here we are,” Fornell said.  Gibbs popped the lock and got out of the SUV.  “We’ll find him, Gibbs,” Fornell said as Gibbs turned to shut the door.

“Oh, I know, Tobias,” Gibbs said with a confidence he was not about to let flag.  “I know.”  He turned and walked back into the Navy Yards, showing his ID to the gate guard as he passed.  They had nothing to follow.  No leads to chase.  Nothing in Harris’ house, nothing in DiNozzo’s apartment, nothing in the financials – nothing led them in any specific direction.

When the elevator doors opened on the squad room, all heads turned.  When they saw him, all the heads turned away again instantly.  Gibbs marched toward his desk, ignoring the people who were ignoring him.  Ziva was on the phone, and McGee was rising slowly behind his desk.  The emptiness of DiNozzo’s desk felt like a gaping hole in the bullpen, but dwelling on that wasn’t going to find the man.

“Boss, how are you doing?” McGee asked, and Gibbs turned on him.

“How do you think, McGee?” he demanded.  “And just how are you doing?”

“Boss, I –”  McGee faltered.  “You were hurt.  And I just know you’ve got to be taking this hard.”

“The question, McGee, is how is DiNozzo doing?  Do you have an answer for that one?”

“Not well?” McGee ventured worriedly.

Gibbs put a lid on an explosion that had nothing to do with Timothy McGee and barked, “Get back to work, McGee!”

The young man sat back down with alacrity, and Gibbs was about to take his own seat when a sharp voice from above caught his attention.  “Agent Gibbs!”  He turned.  Jenny stood at the railing just outside MTAC.  “With me!”

There was a light in her eyes that promised information, and he took off up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  By the time he’d reached her, she’d bent to the retinal scanner.  He followed her into MTAC, where she sat down and handed him her cup of coffee.  “You look like you need it,” she said.

“What have you got, director?” he asked urgently.

“Sit down, Jethro,” she said.  He took a seat impatiently, and she picked up a file from the chair beside her.  “These are the results of a more intensive background check of Detective Lieutenant Brody Michael Harris.”

Gibbs took the folder and flipped it open.  There was the information he’d already seen, the man’s schooling and family history, his early years on the force, then a note that stunned him into furious immobility for about three seconds.  “Son of a bitch!” he growled.  “Eliseo Vargas?”

Jenny nodded.  “Eliseo Vargas,” she repeated.

“And yet they say he’s straight?” he asked incredulously.

“The CIA has been watching him for the past eight years since they uncovered the connection, and so far he’s done nothing that suggests otherwise.  Eliseo Vargas simply sends the man presents on an irregular basis.”

“You don’t get presents from a man like Eliseo Vargas for nothing, Jenny,” Gibbs said intently.  “A drug czar, a smuggler, what the hell isn’t he?”

“We don’t know, we haven’t been able to pin anything on him solidly yet,” she said.  “Though there are indications of connections with the Taliban these days.”

“What is Harris’ connection to him?”

“That’s the puzzle,” Jenny said.  “As near as anyone can tell, Harris has not done anything illegal on Vargas’ behalf.  There doesn’t appear to be any way of accounting for it.”

Gibbs scanned through the correspondence that the CIA had collected and there was nothing to provide a clear explanation.  Then he got to the CIA profile and he stared at the page in front of him in growing wrath.  “They knew.”

“Nothing concrete,” Jenny said.  “Nothing prosecutable.”

“As if they would have given a damn,” Gibbs said in a voice so quiet that it almost hurt his throat.  “If they thought he was a key to bringing Vargas down, do you really think they would have balked at a rape or two?  Or even at murder?”

“The important thing is that this gives us an idea of where Harris might be taking him.”

“We have to let Fornell know about this immediately.”

Jenny glanced at him.  “I don’t have permission to share this with the FBI.”

Gibbs stood up.  “That’s your problem,” he said, and he left MTAC with the file in hand.  When Jenny failed to call him back, he took it for permission and called Tobias.

“Not now, Gibbs, we’ve got a lead on the car.”

“Call me back.  I’ve got other information.”

“Got it.”  They disconnected and Gibbs walked through the aisle between his team’s desks.  “Ziva, McGee, with me.”

They followed him to the elevator and down to Abby’s lab.  She was working frantically to a driving rhythm of drums and noise.  McGee strode over and hit the pause button on her stereo.  She looked up, eyes wide.  “What is it?  Have you found him?”

“No, but we have additional information.”  He handed the file to Ziva, open to the CIA report.  Her eyes scanned the page and her reaction was as strong as his had been.

“Eliseo Vargas?” she spat.  “Why did we not know of this?”

“Who is Eliseo Vargas?” Abby asked, and McGee nodded, his confusion clear.

“A drug ninepin,” Ziva said.  “A smuggler and weapons dealer, but he is slick.”

“Kingpin,” McGee said, and they all turned to him.  “A drug kingpin,” he said.

“That is what I said,” Ziva replied impatiently, and McGee gave up.

“So, what’s his connection to Tony?”

“It’s his connection to Brody Harris we need to ferret out,” Gibbs said.  “They’ve been friends for years, but even the CIA is stumped as to what their connection is.”

Ziva narrowed her eyes.  “And you believe that Brody Harris is trading on his friendship with Vargas to help him get away with Tony.”  Gibbs nodded.  “Then we will trace it,” she said.  “I will call some of my contacts.”

“What have you got, Abby?” Gibbs asked, looking at the information on her computer screen.

“Agent Sacks called me with some vehicle information.  Said something about my getting results faster than his guy at the bureau.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’ve only been on it for a couple of minutes, Gibbs.  I hung up a second or two before you came in.”

“Get back on it,” Gibbs said.  “What is it?”

Abby set back to work with a will.  “They found the Sonata,” she said.  “Tony’s pants were still in the trunk, if you can believe it.  Someone dumped it near the river on Jefferson.  “They’re bringing me some fingerprints, but I guess the forensics guys at the bureau are getting them, too.”

“Keep me –”

Ziva let out a string of curses that no one in the room understood.  Ducky was just entering.  “Language, my dear,” the doctor said mildly.

“Close the door, Duck,” Gibbs said, and Ducky complied, looking puzzled.  “You just found the profile, didn’t you, Ziva?” he asked.

“‘Harris’ relationships with men demonstrate a clear escalation from manipulation to intimidation to outright control by physical domination,’” she read aloud.  “And here, ‘With straight men, he approaches them at times of weakness and, using a combination of influence and coercion, he persuades them into homosexual relationships, afterwards preying on their fear of exposure.  He selects his victims with care, choosing men who will risk more by reporting him than by allowing him free reign.’”

“Are you saying they knew he was a stalker?” Abby demanded.

“There is a list of his ‘partners,’” Ziva said.  “Tony’s is the last name.  According to this, they started their relationship approximately three weeks after the La Granouille thing exploded.”

Gibbs nodded.  That made sense, but it also appalled him.  That meant Harris and Tony had been seeing each other for four months.  Four months of an unhealthy relationship escalating into . . . he clenched his teeth.  “Find out what his connection to Vargas is, Ziva,” Gibbs ordered.  “McGee, find out what you can about the gifts that he’s received from Vargas.  Look for patterns.  Abby, let me know if you get anything.”

“Yes Boss,” she said.  Ziva and McGee scattered, taking the file with them.  Gibbs followed at a more sedate pace, striving to control his own inner turmoil.

Ducky caught up with him at the elevator.  When he made no move to select a button, Gibbs shrugged and pressed the button for the squad room.  Ducky reached out and hit the emergency stop once they were in motion.  “This is not your fault, Jethro,” he said firmly.

Gibbs closed his eyes.  “Oh yeah, and how do you figure that, Ducky?” he asked.

“Anthony is a grown man fully capable of making his own mistakes.  You are not responsible for his every –”

“Tony spent four months with that man, Ducky,” Gibbs said.  “Four months during which he was subjected to intimidation and rape.  And I didn’t notice anything until three weeks after he’d broken it off because the bastard hit him for going to a concert with Abby.  How is that not my fault?”

“You know for certain that he was raped?” Ducky asked.

“That’s what it’s called when you say no and your partner tells you to shut up and then uses his sheer size to force you to go along with it anyway,” Gibbs said.

“My God, Jethro!  Did Anthony tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Gibbs growled.  “And he blames himself for not being more forceful with his refusal.”

“Anthony should know better,” Ducky exclaimed.

“Yeah, he should,” Gibbs replied.  He glanced at Ducky.  For all of the man’s perception, Tony’s masks fooled him, too.  Tony was having enough of his privacy stripped away today, though.  Gibbs wasn’t exposing him any further if he didn’t have to.  He hit the emergency stop again and the elevator jolted into motion.

“Poor Anthony.”  Ducky looked up at him.  “You will get him back.”

“Is that a question or a statement, Duck?” Gibbs asked absently as he started out of the elevator.

Ducky caught his arm.  “It’s an order, Jethro.”  Gibbs looked at Ducky’s resolved expression for a moment, then nodded, accepting the order as given.


	11. Chapter 11

Tony huddled in the bunk, unable to sleep with Brody pressed up against and behind him, his arm around Tony's waist. Brody had given up after a while of letting him sit alone in the head. He had then dragged Tony out and pushed him onto the bed, talking to him incessantly about how they belonged together, and how Tony owed him for his sacrifice in giving up his whole life for him. When Tony had tried to get away, he'd grabbed one of the ties, bound Tony's wrists together and then to the wall.

Then he'd spooned up behind Tony, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling into his neck before falling asleep. Tony lay there, contemplating making the effort to untie himself, but he didn't doubt that too much movement on his part would wake Brody up, and _el capitán_ 's words remained all too fresh in his mind. "You are on this ship for Sr. Harris." If he did get away, if he managed to hide himself somewhere else on the ship, they would find him and they would kill him. Or they would hand him back over to Brody, who would be furious.

Exhaustion and the ebbing of adrenaline conspired to drag Tony slowly into sleep. He had just drifted off, or so it seemed to him, when he felt Brody's hand moving along his side. He jolted awake, and Brody chuckled. "I wondered how quickly you would wake up," he murmured in Tony's ear, his lips and teeth touching and tickling the flesh. His fingers slipped under the t-shirt Tony wore to brush against bare skin. "Did you like being groped by a stranger on the bridge of the ship? Did it turn you on?"

"Brody, I –"

Brody's hand came up and covered Tony's mouth. "Is that why you started to deny me when they brought you back? Did the captain fuck you? Did you like it? I know you like to be forced. Do I need to be more forceful, Tony?" Tony shook his head. "I think I do. I think I need to put you over something and fuck you hard."

Tony bit Brody's hand and when the other man pulled away, he said, "The captain asked me questions. That's all. And they gave you a cavity search, too. Did you like it?"

Brody rolled away for a moment. When he came back, he took Tony's chin in one hand and forced a bunched up handful of cloth into his mouth. Tony tried to bite the hand, then he tried to force the cloth out, but it wasn't that easy. Brody grabbed Tony's waistband and pulled down. Tony kicked out, not sure why he was fighting but unable to stop. Brody ignored the occasional blows Tony got in on him, simply continuing to strip the pants off him. He then lay down atop him and untied Tony's wrists so he could pull off the shirt. Tony wrenched one of his arms away and dragged the cloth out of his mouth. "Brody, stop it. I need to get some sleep."

"You'll have plenty of time to sleep in Colombia," Brody said. He dragged Tony's shirt off and tossed it aside, then started tying Tony's hands again to the hooks on the sides of the bunk. "I'll have work to do then."

"And what will I be doing?"

"Waiting for your man to come home," Brody said.

Tony yanked on the ties, but Brody was pretty good with knots. "What, are you going to chain me to the wall and give me an instruction book on how to be a good wife?" Tony asked incredulously.

"I don't think Colombia allows same sex marriage, Tony," Brody said. He grabbed the damp bundle of cloth and stuffed it back into Tony's mouth. Tony brought his teeth together and caught Brody's finger while it was still in range. Brody let out a yelp and smacked Tony's head. He put his right hand on Tony's belly and pulled him up so that Tony's back and butt were pressed up against his jeans, the seams and rivets making themselves felt against Tony's skin.

Tony jerked, trying still to get away even though he knew he had no hope. Brody stroked up Tony's chest with his other hand, resting his hand around Tony's neck, though he put no pressure on the windpipe. He seemed to really be enjoying that gesture. Tony wasn't.

"You need to stop biting me, Tony," Brody said softly into his ear. "I can bite you, but you don't get to bite me." As if to illustrate the point, he drove his teeth into the trapezius muscle on Tony's right shoulder. Tony grunted into the gag because this time it felt like Brody was going for blood. His right hand closed around Tony's penis, and Tony stopped moving. When Brody let up on the bite, he kissed the abused flesh and murmured, "Mine."

Tony realized then that he was shaking all over. He didn't know when that had started. He was screwed. He wasn't getting out of this. Gibbs would look, but he wouldn't know where to start. Tony's body would be found in some South American country, the local police would scratch their heads and bury it in an anonymous grave and that would be the end of Tony DiNozzo.

Assuming he made it off this boat.

Brody reached back and undid his own pants, pushing them far enough out of the way to free his cock. Tony felt the erection spring free against his ass and shuddered. While one hand groped Tony's chest and belly, the other began to prepare Tony for penetration. He found himself wondering suddenly how many men Brody had done this to before. Not the kidnapping – someone would have noticed that, surely – but the obsessive possession. Tony could not be the first. But there were no complaints, not the slightest hint of anything out of line. Was there something about him? Had he truly led Brody to believe that this kind of forceful relationship was what he wanted?

There was nothing tentative about Brody's actions this time. In one swift movement he thrust all the way in, the metal of his zipper pressing into Tony's buttocks as he ground against Tony's body, groaning and biting down again and again on Tony's neck and back. Then he began to thrust, hard and fast, each forward motion nearly pushing Tony towards the head of the bunk. As his urgency increased, he put his hand on Tony's neck again, not squeezing, but terrifying Tony with the possibility that he might. Finally, he came, bursts of semen shooting into Tony, his body grinding against Tony's again. Then he collapsed, bearing Tony down to the mattress.

Tony had managed to turn his head to the side at the last moment, so his face wasn't pressed flat against the soft surface beneath them. Tears heated his eyes, and he struggled to keep them inside. Despair warred with his certain knowledge that Gibbs wouldn't give up, but with Brody's weight trapping him so firmly, it was difficult to hold onto hope. His captor's behavior was escalating, of that there was no doubt, and if Tony could not conform himself to Brody's rapidly changing expectations, the other man would kill him eventually. He forced the gag out of his mouth finally and took in a gasp of air, breathing Brody's scent in deeply.

With that, he could no longer control the tears. He buried his face in the pillow beneath him so that Brody wouldn't see.

Gibbs would find him, he thought, but he was no longer sure he believed it.

* * *

"Eliseo Vargas gives Harris presents on all the major gift giving holidays," McGee said. "Birthdays, Christmas, occasionally Easter and sometimes even the Fourth of July."

"Patterns?"

"Nothing else, Boss."

"What kinds of presents?"

"Mostly expensive nothings," McGee replied. "Dinners, theater tickets, fine clothing." He leaned back slightly. "Given some of the designers involved, I'm not surprised that he might have appealed to Tony." Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and McGee got back down to business. "Um . . . once he got a plane ticket to Brazil for a week's vacation."

"Did he go?"

"He did, but I don't know what he did there. There's no evidence of the trip on any of his financials."

"When was it?" Ziva asked.

"October, 1999," McGee replied.

"I would guess then that it was for Vargas' niece Magdalena's confirmation," Ziva said. "October 17th, 1999. Does it fit, McGee?"

"Right square in the middle of his week," McGee confirmed. "But why? That's not exactly the event of the year."

"Good question, Agent McGee," Jenny said, walking into their area.

Ziva tapped a few times on her keyboard and then stood up, moving towards the plasma. Gibbs rose and walked to stand next to her. Jenny took the place on her other side. The screen was suddenly taken up with a photograph of a charming black haired child, no more than six years old.

"In 1993, Brody Harris was a patrolman in Miami, Florida," Ziva said. "He saved the life of a child named Magdalena Abelardo at great risk to himself. In fact, he spent three months in the hospital recovering from the incident. He received several very expensive gifts from the girl's family at the time which he very properly returned."

"And Magdalena Abelardo is Eliseo Vargas' niece," Gibbs stated.

The photograph on the screen changed to show the same child, older, this time wearing a white dress and a veil, a familiar figure behind her. "She is," Ziva replied. "She'll be twenty-one later this year. In early 1994, Eliseo Vargas spent six months in Miami. It was shortly after that time that Harris started receiving presents from him and accepting them."

"Vargas gives him presents because he saved his niece's life?" Jenny said incredulously.

"Sounds like it," Gibbs said.

"The CIA is going to love that."

"But it would certainly provide him with incentive to protect Harris now," Gibbs said.

"Gratitude for an event that took place more than fifteen years ago?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs turned to Ziva. "What exactly did he save her from?"

"A serial pedophile who liked to hack his victims up into little pieces when he was done with them," Ziva said.

"Yeah, Jenny, I think so," Gibbs replied, and Jenny nodded, looking faintly sick. "What brings you down here?"

"I just wanted to see how things were going."

McGee's phone rang and Gibbs went back to his desk, shaking his head. "Where would he be taking Tony, then, and how would they be getting there?"

"Director?" McGee said. "Cynthia has a call for you."

Jenny hurried up the stairs again and Gibbs called Fornell. "You got anything yet?"

The elevator chimed and Gibbs had a peculiar sense of stereophonic sound as Fornell spoke into the phone at the same moment he stepped off the elevator. "I just might." Gibbs turned to look and stood up when he saw Fornell and Sacks come in dragging a third man between them. They paused in front of Gibbs' desk. "Remind me to thank Abby when I see her next."

"I don't know what you people want with me!" the man protested. "I didn't do nothing but dump a car. I don't even know who it belongs to."

"Jethro!" Jenny called, and the entire squad room went silent for a moment. Gibbs was moving before he knew it, and McGee and Ziva only waited long enough for him to get past them. Flushing slightly, Jenny retreated into her office. "He's on a cargo ship," she said once the door was closed, and Gibbs stared at her in surprise. "The _Isabel Damita_. It's in international waters off the coast of Puerto Rico. A helicopter will be ready in twenty minutes to take you to Oceana where a plane will take you to San Juan so you can join the CGC Hamilton. Gear up, and if you've got go bags, bring them. I don't know how long it will take."

"McGee, Ziva, go," Gibbs ordered, and they scurried out of the office. He turned back to Jenny. "How close is the _Isabel Damita_ to Puerto Rico?"

"A ways out," she said. "They don't plan to make port there. According to their itinerary, their next port of call is Cartagena."

"Colombia?" Gibbs exclaimed.

"Well, ideally you'll reach them well before they reach Colombia," Jenny said. "You'll have to be careful. CIA has an operative on the ship. Evidently he's seen DiNozzo, says he was still alive and not too badly banged up as of eight hours ago."

Gibbs took a deep breath. Eight hours was a long time. "Thanks, Jen. I'll keep you posted."

"You'd better."

He took the steps down to the squad room three at a time and geared up, grabbing his go bag from the file drawer where it lived behind DiNozzo's. On second thought, he grabbed DiNozzo's, too. "Where's McGee?" he asked.

"His bag is in his car," Ziva said.

Pursing his lips, Gibbs figured he'd better find out where Fornell and Sacks had gone. He took a quick trip down to interrogation and found them in the observation room watching their collar. "What's up?" Fornell asked.

"Jen got a lead on DiNozzo's exact location," Gibbs said.

"Where?" Fornell asked, clearly ready for action.

"International waters," Gibbs replied, and Fornell deflated slightly. "Cheer up, Tobias. That means you guys get to interview this bozo," he added, pointing at the guy in the interrogation room.

"Thanks, Gibbs," Fornell grumbled as Gibbs hurried back out.

McGee was grabbing his gear when Gibbs reached the bullpen, so he grabbed his and DiNozzo's bags and said, "Let's go." McGee had to scramble to catch up and Gibbs shook his head. "Where do you think you should leave that bag next time, McGee?" Gibbs asked mildly as the elevator took its time getting from point A to point B.

"Under my desk?" McGee suggested with an audible gulp.

"Now that's a thought worth pursuing," Gibbs said.

* * *

It seemed like hours before Brody finally stirred. "I need the head, Brody," Tony said. Brody untied him and lifted himself off him. Tony slipped out from under, but before he could go anywhere, Brody caught his wrist. Tony froze. He took a deep breath. "Brody, I need to use the head," he said calmly.

"Don't hide out in there," Brody said. "Come right back."

"I want a shower," Tony said.

Brody pulled Tony's hand towards his face and kissed the back of it. "Not much point, is there?" he asked with a chuckle. "It's not like we have anything else to do."

Tony jerked his hand away. The room was cold and he was beginning to shiver. "I'm taking a shower, and then I'm getting dressed. You can do what you want."

As Tony moved away, Brody reached out and stroked down the back of his thigh. "I can, can't I?" he murmured, then he rolled away to face towards the wall.

Rubbing the ticklish feeling off the skin of his bare thigh and trying to ignore the truth of the words, Tony went into the head and used the facilities. He peered reluctantly over his shoulder at the mirror to see how badly Brody had bitten him. The skin was broken in a couple of places, but it didn't look like he'd really bled much. He climbed into the shower, turning it as hot as it would go, and hissed as the water stung in the abrasions on his buttocks and the bite on his trapezius. Aware that rape victims often scrubbed themselves raw in a vain attempt to rid themselves of the remnants of their attacker's odor or touch, Tony resisted the urge to do more than clean his skin. It wasn't as if both odor and touch weren't waiting for him outside the door.

Finally, the cooling of the water forced him to get out of the shower cubicle and dry off. He draped a towel around his loins and reflected that this wasn't a hotel. They were already reusing towels. Maybe there was some way to get fresh.

Brody was still in bed when he came out, and Tony dug into the suitcase that had held his clothes. It was a disaster of tossed and crumpled garments, not all of which were his, clear evidence of a search. He burrowed through and found another pair of sweats, some socks and a turtleneck. Pulling them on, he grabbed the blanket that Brody had rinsed earlier. It wasn't altogether dry, but it was better than nothing. He swung around and behind the table again. The food was gone, thank God. He leaned into the corner and covered himself up as much as he could with the damp blanket.

So, they had searched the luggage for transmitters, they had searched their persons. Tony was very glad he hadn't acceded to Abby's pleading that he allow her to implant a subcutaneous tracker. In this situation that could have ended with holes in his flesh or him very very dead. Presumably, they were reassured that he and Brody had no GPS locators, radios or recording devices. That they were still alive after everything argued strongly that this Vargas guy must have a lot of influence, at least with _el capitán_.

Brody grumbled and rolled over again, but Tony didn't look up. A moment later, he got out of the bunk and went into the head. Tony heard the shower start and a muffled curse and grinned slightly. No hot water for Brody. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he clutched them in his arms. Colombia. At least he spoke the language. Without a passport, escape could get complex, but a lot depended on whether they wound up anywhere near a US Embassy. If he could get to an embassy, he'd be in good shape, because they should theoretically have information regarding a missing federal agent matching his description. From there he could call Gibbs and all would be well. Hell, if he could get to a phone anywhere, he could call Gibbs.

When Brody emerged from the head, he looked grumpy and half awake. He dug through the suitcases and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Tony watched him surreptitiously as he put some things in his pockets, concealing the exact nature of the items. How he wished the bastard would just go back to sleep!

"Tony," Brody said in a peremptory tone. "Come here."

"Why?"

Shoving suitcases roughly aside, Brody came over and grabbed Tony by the arm. "Now!" he ordered, dragging him out from behind the table.

The bench was padded with fabric, and Tony's sock-covered feet actually gave him a little traction when he dug in. He yanked on Brody's fingers with his free hand, trying to loosen the other man's grip, but it was all a delaying action, and foolish as well. Before long he was standing in front of Brody, feeling dwarfed by the size difference and aware of the seething rage his captor was exuding. Brody spun him around suddenly and slammed him down across the table, cuffing his hands tightly behind him. Tony struggled, but all he got were bruises on top of bruises.

"Do you remember, Tony . . ." Brody said, leaning against him. "Do you remember me asking you for something early on in our friendship, something you wouldn't give me?" Tony blinked at the linoleum tabletop, entirely uncertain. "It was you talking about the 'head' that reminded me that I still haven't felt your mouth on me," he said, and Tony got a sinking feeling in his gut. Now he remembered. It had been the first time Brody had shown annoyance towards him, but the other man hadn't pressed the matter at the time. Tony hadn't thought about it in months. Brody leaned closer, grinding against Tony's butt. "I still haven't fucked your face, and that's something I've been yearning to do since I first saw you."

"I'll bite you," Tony said, his voice low and resolute.

"No, you won't," Brody replied, his determination equally evident. "Because if you do, I'll beat you bloody and do it anyway." Tony closed his eyes. He had no trouble believing that. "You are mine, and you have no right to refuse me anything." He groped Tony's ass. "Not this." He reached around and squeezed Tony's groin till he squeaked. "Not this." A hand tangled in Tony's hair jerked him upright, and Brody spun him around again, running his thumb across Tony's lips. "And certainly not this." Tony jerked his head away, but he could see that Brody meant every word he said. "It's time, Tony. Past time for you to suck me off."

"I won't," Tony said. "I told you from the start I wouldn't, and nothing has changed."

"Hasn't it?" Brody asked. He forced Tony to his knees and pressed him back into the corner between the bunk and the bench, giving Tony nowhere to even pull away to. The larger man unzipped his jeans, and Tony was glad to see that he wasn't actually hard yet. He wasn't really flaccid, either, though. Sort of in between. Brody grabbed Tony's chin and jerked his head up so that their eyes met. "Now, I'm guessing you've never done this before, so I'm going to give you careful instructions. If you follow those instructions, you'll make me very happy, and making me happy needs to become your life's goal, Tony."

Tony clenched his teeth and glared up at Brody, anger and hatred filling him. Practicality might suggest he cooperate, but he was damned if he was going to give in tamely to the bastard. Brody's hand tightened on his jaw, and Tony tried unsuccessfully to wrench his head out of Brody's grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Oceana is a naval air station located in Virginia Beach, Virginia. If Kate had been there, I might have explained that in the story, as she was pretty much treated as a foil for exposition for quite a lot of her time on the show, however, Gibbs and McGee would know that, and in this situation, even if she didn't know, Ziva wouldn't take the time to ask. Furthermore, our serial explainer is . . . busy.
> 
> Also, the CGC in CGC Hamilton stands for Coast Guard Cutter.


	12. Chapter 12

The door slammed open abruptly, and Brody released him, turning in a mixture of anger and surprise. "What the hell do you think –" He broke off at the sight of the guns pointing at both of them. "What's going on here?"

"That is what I would like to know!" _el capitán_ growled. "Put your clothes back on, _joto_!" Two of the guards surged forward and dragged Brody away from Tony, and a third grabbed Tony and pulled him to his feet. "We are being ordered to stand by to be boarded by the US Coast Guard. What do you know of this?"

Tony shook his head, relief filling him. "Good old second B is for bastard Gibbs," he murmured. "I told you my boss was like Ahab. Turn me over and –"

 _El capitán_ shoved Tony back against the wall and got into his face. "I offered you to them if they would not search my ship. I offered you both, but they insist on coming aboard."

Tony blinked at him. What the hell did he have on this ship? He swallowed past a lump of fear in his throat. "What now?"

"Perhaps they do not believe I have you," _el capitán_ muttered. "If I show you to them . . ." Turning, he flung Tony into the arms of two of his crew. "Follow me."

"Eliseo won't like this!" Brody snarled as the guards dragged them both out of the room, and _el capitán_ threw words back at him over his shoulder. Tony blanched at the response. Only hours ago, _el capitán_ had been considerably more concerned about his contract with Sr. Vargas. "What did you say?" Brody demanded, but _el capitán_ did not turn.

"Roughly translated, he said, 'screw Eliseo,'" Tony said urgently. "Don't piss him off, Brody."

"I'm not going back, and neither are you!" Brody lunged towards him, but the guards were prepared for him, yanking him back. Tony's guard interposed himself between them, shoving Tony up the remaining steps and through a hatch. Tony squinted in the morning sunlight as they reached the deck. Another push from behind caused him to hit the railing and only an arm around his chest kept him from going over.

A gun under Tony's chin tilted his head back abruptly. He froze and _el capitán_ 's voice rang out from beside him. "Sr. 'second B is for bastard' Gibbs! Maybe you did not believe me, but I have your man!"

"Oh, I believed you!"

Tony felt a rush of pure, heady relief at the sound of that voice so close by. It was so profound that even the gun digging deeper into his neck couldn't entirely stem it. "Then why is there this delay? Get your Coast Guard friends to back off, I will give him to you and we can go about our separate ways."

"Sure!" Gibbs called. "We'll come alongside, you lower a ladder down and –"

"No. They move away and we'll leave your men in a raft."

"Oh, I don't think so," Gibbs replied with a chuckle in his voice. "Let's –"

A gunshot rang out and the hand with the gun at Tony's throat went loose. As the man fell, more gunfire sounded, and Tony hit the deck, not sure where any of the shooting was coming from. He rolled, trying to see who was around him. Brody had somehow gotten someone's gun and was shooting the ship's crew with precision. Tony leaned up to peer over the side of the ship, beneath the railings. Gibbs had his weapon pointed towards the ship, but his eyes were scanning, and Tony knew that his boss was looking for him. Before he could do anything to draw attention to himself, a hand seized the back of his turtleneck and started dragging him along towards the bow of the ship. Tony twisted to see who it was and saw the captain hunched low, below the rail. He fired a couple of shots back the way they had come before diving into a hatch, dragging Tony behind him. With his arms still cuffed, Tony couldn't grab onto anything, and socks that had possessed reasonable friction on rough fabric had none at all on the deck.

The hatch led to a stairwell, and Tony's teeth jarred together as he bounced down the steps on his ass. They were followed by several of the crew, and then Tony saw Brody at the hatch behind them, haloed by sunlight. "He's mine, you son of a bitch!" Brody screamed, and with another burst of gunfire, a crewman fell backwards down the stairs. Shots from the stern made Brody turn, and Tony saw him go running towards the bow just as the captain started dragging him towards the stern.

"Get on your feet, _imbécile_!"

Tony got his feet under him and contemplated his escape options. At the moment they numbered approximately none. There were three crewmen behind him, the captain in front of him, and all were armed. He was still cuffed, his entire body was one huge ache, and Brody was somewhere on the ship looking for him. However, Gibbs was nearby, and that made up for all sorts of problems. Furthermore, where Gibbs was, Ziva could not be far behind. He had back up. If he'd had space and time, he would have collapsed from sheer relief. Instead he continued tripping over the knee knockers and following the captain, who had not released his hold on Tony's shirt. The fabric would never be the same.

* * *

Gibbs hadn't needed Captain Neal's headshake to know that Captain Magaña's proposal that they simply move back out of range and allow him to drop Tony in a life raft and leave was not tenable. For one thing, the first time Magaña had floated the suggestion, they hadn't even been certain that Tony was on the ship. Neal hadn't been quite so sure of him, and had started to explain his reasoning.

"In all likelihood, Agent Gibbs, if we did that, your man would be dead when we reached him, if he even bothered to leave him at all. I'm sorry, we'll have to –"

"Board?" Gibbs had interrupted. "Damn straight."

After that, he and Neal had gotten on well. They had agreed that all three NCIS agents would join the boarding teams, and it was just as they'd set about determining tactics when Magaña had started yelling instead of using the radio. Gibbs had looked up and stared in dismay at DiNozzo at the railing.

While he'd traded remarks with Magaña, McGee had looked across at DiNozzo through binoculars. "He looks like he's been used as a punching bag," the younger agent had murmured.

When Harris had emerged from below decks with a Beretta and a bad attitude, things had gone from bad to worse in no time flat. The only positive Gibbs could see was that the starboard rail went from crowded to deserted in approximately thirty seconds. A glance at Neal showed them to be in agreement, and the Hamilton's helmsman brought them alongside the _Isabel Damita_ and he and McGee had joined the boarding party. Ziva was aboard the CGC Monroe abaft the _Isabel Damita_ , and she would be boarding later, with the second party. Given the disastrous turn events had taken, later might turn out to be sooner, but Gibbs wasn't worrying about that right now. At the moment, the only thing he gave a damn about was getting DiNozzo back in as few pieces as possible.

They cleared section after section of the ship. Gibbs was aware when Ziva's team boarded, but it was taking too damn long. Where the hell was Tony and who was he with? Gibbs was frankly terrified that if Harris began to believe he wouldn't get Tony away, he'd kill him to avoid losing him.

Pockets of resistance had to be quelled, but every delay made Gibbs angrier. Neal's men were questioning the prisoners and had elicited the information that the captain had taken Tony, but nothing more specific. Finally, Gibbs grabbed the one who looked seniormost and shoved him against a wall. "Where would your captain go to ground?" he demanded.

"How should I know?" the man asked, dissembling in a very thick accent. "I –"

Gibbs slammed him against the bulkhead again. "Okay, fine. Where would _you_ go to ground?"

"Gibbs?" Neal said softly. "Do you think –"

"Let me try," Ziva suggested eagerly from behind him, and the sailor's eyes went round. He could only imagine that Ziva was at her most threatening from the man's expression. Gibbs allowed his consideration of that notion to show on his face, and the man suddenly started gabbling.

"This way," Neal said, and Gibbs glanced at Ziva, who was sheathing her knife. He gave her a nod and followed the Hamilton's captain. "I'm not sure what I think of your methods, but I'm not the one with a missing man."

Gibbs shrugged and gestured for Neal to lead the way.

* * *

Tony crouched in the corner of the hold. He didn't know what the boxes they were hiding behind contained, but he didn't much care, so long as it wasn't explosive. Since the men he was with didn't seem either suicidal or stupid, he doubted that was the case.

"You know, even this beats where I was fifteen minutes ago," he said conversationally.

This earned him a backhand from _el capitán_ , but Tony didn't change his opinion. _El capitán_ was pacing, his men were on watch, and Tony was as far out of the way as he could get. Finally, _el capitán_ settled down on a box, his back to Tony as he watched the largest of the gaps between the pallets they were hiding behind. Tony glanced around at the others and took a deep breath. Having Gibbs aboard this ship made him feel safer, but it didn't absolve him from responsibility. Moving as silently as he could, he began to try and work his wrists under his butt so he could get a little more use out of his arms. When one of his captors glanced his way, he did his best to seem as though he was only stretching. Apparently it was persuasive, because the guy turned back to his guard duty.

Tony kept working on it till his arms were in front, at which point he began to really hope no one would notice until he was ready to take action. As he shifted, he slipped his socks off as well. If he had to run, he'd do better not wearing something that would slide or catch on the rough and uneven surface of the decks.

The guy to his left, at the smaller gap between pallets, let out a sudden exclamation. There were two bursts of gunfire, then he fell. Tony leapt forward when the other two guards hurried to that side of the pallet. The captain had jumped to his feet and turned towards the gunfire. Tony grabbed his head and executed a move he'd experienced once at Gibbs' hands and discovered that breaking a man's neck was alarmingly easy. Two more gunshots dropped the men across from him, and he looked up to see Brody staring at him.

"I'll have to be more careful when I restrain you henceforth," he said with an admiring grin. "Tony, there's a –"

Tony didn't wait to see what there was. He took off running the other way around the pallet. Heavy footfalls behind him made him move as quickly and erratically as he could. He couldn't bear the thought of that man's hands on him again, not especially with Gibbs so close.

He flung a hatch open and ran out onto deck, seriously contemplating jumping overboard. He had just gotten to the rail when a voice behind him made him freeze. "Why did you run?" Gathering himself again, he raised his foot to step up onto the railing. A hand on his shoulder dragged him backwards, shoving him stumbling back towards the hatch he'd just exited. Brody turned towards him, his gun aimed at Tony's chest. "Go back. You ran the wrong way."

Tony shook his head, backing up. "You won't shoot me, Brody," he said. "You keep telling me how much –"

"You're mine, Tony," Brody said. "What I can't keep, I will destroy. Go back."

"Brody, please," Tony said, backing slowly. "I don't want to die."

"Keep going, then. Don't make me . . ." Brody's voice trailed off, and Tony saw a change come over his expression. His hands steadied on the gun, like he was taking a firmer aim, and Tony knew that he was about to die. At least this way he'd wind up on one of Ducky's tables instead of in a South American ditch.

Something slammed into him suddenly, spinning him around and throwing him to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've already seen this on Bird Dog, please feel free to skip.
> 
> Gentle readers (and not so gentle), there is a super awesome event upcoming called _The Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen_ or _GISHWHES_ that Misha Collins sponsors. (I realize this isn’t really a Misha-centric fandom, but the cause is good and I’m excited.) GISHWHES is a charity event, lots of crazy fun, and you can meet people from all over the world. I mean, you meet them online, but you still interact and it's awesome. My last year's team consisted of three of my closest friends and a bunch of "vikings" (self-identified) from Norway. This year it runs from July 30 to Aug 6, and registration is now open. Go to the website and see all about it. www.gishwhes.com 
> 
> It's loads of fun, very silly, and if you can't afford the modest entry fee, it is possible to qualify for subsidies called Gisholarships.
> 
> If you've ever seen him live or followed him on Twitter, you know Misha Collins is crazy. Imagine that joined with a scavenger hunt where you build strange things (a life-size dog made of feminine hygiene products last year), create strange scenarios (I armed my dog for battle with the cats - awkward when one of the cats started sniffing the battle axe and my dog gave me this anxious look), and basically do a good turn for the world while having good, silly fun. William Shatner plays! So should you! (That's not peer pressure unless you're a) a celebrity or b) in your 80s.)

* * *

From the roof of the cargo hold, Gibbs saw the intention travel down Harris' arms and he fired, knowing his shot would be too late to stop Brody's. He'd seen DiNozzo's rush to the rail and Harris' intervention. As he'd hurried forward, Harris had aimed at what he had to assume was DiNozzo, though from his angle he couldn't see Tony after Brody had shoved him away from the rail.

Brody's arms flew up, his weapon fell, and Brody himself toppled slowly over the railing to fall into the ocean below. Gibbs scrambled across the uneven surface of the roof to drop to the deck where he found several Coasties gathered around DiNozzo, who lay motionless with McGee sprawled over the top of him.

A groan from the fallen figures told him that someone was alive, but not who. Then McGee's body shifted as if moved from beneath. "Probie?" DiNozzo said with incredulity. "McGoo?" he added with an increase in alarm when there was no immediate response.

"Ow!" McGee muttered. He began to lift himself off DiNozzo, and Gibbs helped him up, looking him over quickly to make sure he wasn't hurt before giving him a gentle shove to get him out of the way.

Then Gibbs squatted down beside his senior field agent. "DiNozzo?" he said worriedly.

Tony's face split in a broad grin. "Hey Boss. Can I go home now?"

"Sure, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, inwardly relieved that DiNozzo seemed so much himself. "Mind if we finish clearing this ship out first?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "'kay," he said. "I'll just lie here and wait."

Gibbs grabbed Tony's right forearm preparatory to pulling him to his feet, and Tony took hold of Gibbs' arm in both his hands. Lt. Commander Waverly took DiNozzo's left elbow to help heave him up. "McGee, Waverly, get DiNozzo to the Hamilton."

"What about you, Boss?" Tony asked, not letting go of his arm.

Gibbs met Tony's anxious look with one of calm assurance. "I'll be right behind you." DiNozzo nodded wearily and let Waverly and McGee support him towards the cutter. Gibbs stood still a moment and watched him go. DiNozzo was wearing sweats and a turtleneck and nothing else so far as Gibbs could tell. His feet were leaving bloody prints, and there were bruises on almost every exposed bit of skin. Gibbs took up rearguard, in case Magaña or any of his men decided to take further action against them. DiNozzo swayed a bit as he walked, clearly in need of the support McGee and Waverly were supplying.

DiNozzo stopped abruptly and turned, pulling out of Waverly's grip. "Boss, where's Brody?"

"I shot him, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "And then he fell overboard."

DiNozzo stared at him for a moment, then turned back and kept going, allowing Waverly to help him again. Getting him down the ladder to the Hamilton was an experience, but once he was on the cutter, he was able to sit down and they could finally take the time to remove the handcuffs. Gibbs got a look at how tightly they were ratcheted as he unlocked them and wished he'd done it before.

"We need a medic over here," Gibbs said in Waverly's direction, but the man was already bringing a young woman towards them.

"This is Lt. Hagan," he said.

Tony looked up, and his eyes brightened slightly. Watching, Gibbs began to feel serious misgivings about DiNozzo's mood. He was too cheerful, too friendly, too . . . just too everything. He was playing the part of grateful rescuee for all he was worth. McGee was watching him with obvious puzzlement, but then McGee had never been very good at reading DiNozzo.

"All right, Agent DiNozzo," Lt. Hagan started, but DiNozzo interrupted her.

"Tony," he said.

She nodded. "Lisa," she replied. "Now, how are you feeling?"

DiNozzo opened his mouth and Gibbs could hear the glib answer before he even spoke it. "His feet are cut up pretty bad," Gibbs said.

Hagan lifted DiNozzo's foot off the deck and looked at it. "I can see that. I'm going to have to get this cleaned up before I can treat it."

"How about if I just take a shower?" DiNozzo suggested.

Hagan shrugged. "I don't know why not," she said, but Gibbs shook his head.

"They're probably going to want to do a rape kit at the hospital," he said.

Waverly had deposited them in a cabin, so there weren't too many people around, but all three of his auditors raised their heads with varying expressions. Hagan looked startled, McGee round-eyed, and DiNozzo wary. Tony shook his head. "Doesn't matter, Boss," he said in a voice alarmingly devoid of expression. "I already showered once since the last time."

The silence that followed this statement threatened to drag on for a while till Hagan finally rose. "I'll get a basin," she said, "and we can wash your feet right here." She left the cabin quickly, closing the hatch behind her.

DiNozzo rubbed his forehead with the heels of his palms. "I really want a shower, Boss. That cargo hold wasn't the cleanest of environments."

"There still could be evidence, DiNozzo," Gibbs said mildly.

"The last time?" McGee ventured, his expression very disturbed. Gibbs occasionally wished the boy would learn to keep his mouth shut.

DiNozzo closed his eyes, going very still as if only just realizing how much he'd revealed and before whom. "Yeah, McGee, the last time. As he said not so very long ago, it's not like there was anything else to do." McGee opened his mouth but didn't seem to have any idea what to say. DiNozzo looked up at Gibbs. "Seriously, Boss, I didn't anticipate help coming so soon, and I . . . I took a really long, really thorough shower."

"Seriously, DiNozzo, we're going to let the hospital staff decide," Gibbs said.

Hagan knocked and came back in carrying a basin filled with water. She also had a cold pack slung over her shoulder. When she bent to put the basin down, the cold pack threatened to slide off into the water, so Gibbs plucked it off. She took it with a nod of thanks and held it out towards DiNozzo who looked at it with an odd expression. "For your jaw," she said leaning forward and pressing it gently in place. The swelling there had come to Gibbs' attention, but he had a feeling it was only one of many. DiNozzo took the cold pack and held it where she'd put it for him, but his eyes still held that odd look. "What?" Lt. Hagan asked.

"Just thinking that if you wanted to ice every minor swelling I have right now, I'd have to go swimming in ice water." He shivered. "Not my idea of fun."

"Are you cold?"

Tony shrugged, and Gibbs saw the faint lines of pain that appeared when he moved. "I'm good," Tony said. Hagan knelt down and began to clean his feet with extreme care. Gibbs walked over to the other bunk and grabbed the blanket off it, returning to wrap it around DiNozzo's shoulders.

"McGee, find out if they've got the ship clear yet, and if so, see if you can get the Coasties to release some of Tony's socks and shoes."

"Yes, Boss," McGee said. With a worried look at Tony, he left the cabin and shut the door behind him.

"My clothes are a disaster," Tony said, looking up at Gibbs. "You remember Seaman Frank Thompson?" Gibbs nodded. "He was on the ship, and once he'd told _el capitán_ that I was NCIS and an expert at undercover work, they searched everything." Gibbs raised his eyebrows, and Tony nodded imperceptibly. Question asked and answered. DiNozzo had not only been raped by Harris, he'd also had a cavity search that had no doubt been less than gentle. "God knows what condition most of it's in. What little I've seen was pretty trashed."

"I brought your go bag, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, and Tony grinned. "But it didn't seem big enough to include shoes."

"No, I keep the spare shoes under my desk," DiNozzo said. He hissed and Hagan murmured an apology.

"You're going to have to be careful, Tony. These could easily get infected." She looked up at Gibbs. "In fact, I think you'd better make sure the doctors give him a tetanus shot, sir."

"Will do," Gibbs replied.

McGee stuck his head in. "Boss, Ziva will be bringing some of his stuff back with her shortly. Once she's on the Hamilton, they're going to take us ashore."

"Where are we?" Tony asked.

"About a hundred and fifty miles out from Puerto Rico," McGee said.

Tony scowled. "Great, another trip to Puerto Rico, and no beaches this time."

"This time, DiNozzo?" Gibbs said, hoping to get a rise out of his agent. "The last time you were sent to the base exchange, if I recall correctly."

DiNozzo looked up at him nervously. "And that's exactly where I went, Boss," he said defensively.

Gibbs chuckled. "But not the only place you went," he said with a wink.

The wink made DiNozzo relax, and he smiled. "Well, I had to wait somewhere for the flight back."

Gibbs put a hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed very gently. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Where are you going?" Tony asked, and Gibbs paused at the earnest anxiety in his voice. He turned back to find Tony staring at him with wide eyes, most of his mask fallen away.

"I want to talk to the captain. I won't be long."

Tony nodded and Gibbs left him alone with Lt. Hagan. McGee fell in behind Gibbs as he walked towards the bridge. "I've never seen him like this," McGee said after a moment.

"Like what, McGee?" Gibbs asked. McGee didn't respond, but Gibbs could feel the words trying to come out of him, so he stopped and turned to face his youngest agent. "Like what, McGee?" he asked in a softer tone.

McGee shrugged uncomfortably. "He's usually so confident, I guess. So full of . . . of . . ."

"So full of himself?" Gibbs finished for him, and McGee nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Of course he is." Gibbs grimaced. "While I was gone and you had Agent Lee on the team, did you let her see it when you felt uncertain?" McGee stuttered over his response, but Gibbs just shook his head and turned away. He needed to know how long it was going to take to get back to San Juan and he needed to arrange an ambulance to meet them at the dock. And he needed to get back to DiNozzo before he panicked. He stopped again, suddenly remembering something else he had to do. Turning back to McGee, he said, "Call Abby." McGee started nodding instantly. "And call the director."

"I did," McGee replied. "I mean, I called Abby. I didn't think about the director."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Then you'd better call her now, and hope you get her before Abby does."

McGee's eyes widened and he began dialing furiously. Gibbs made his way to the bridge in time to see Ziva coming aboard with a small duffel. "How is he, Agent Gibbs?" Commander Jefferson asked.

"He'll be fine," Gibbs replied.

Before he could ask any of his questions, Ziva hurried forward. "How is he? Where is he?"

Gibbs told her where to find him and turned back to Commander Jefferson. "What's the plan, commander?"

"Captain Neal will stay with the rest of the group while I take you back to port," Commander Jefferson said in between giving orders to his crew to get them underway. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours, and I've already alerted Fort Buchanan. They'll have an ambulance waiting for us when we arrive. I'll send someone for you when we get close."

"Any news on Harris?"

Jefferson shook his head. "We haven't found him yet, but it took us a little while to get divers down to where he went in. The current could have taken him a fair distance by now."

Gibbs nodded. And chances were he was dead. Gibbs couldn't be distressed about that. "What about the crew? You got most of them pacified yet?"

"At this point they're searching section to section for stragglers, but yes," Jefferson replied. "Even with your man in the condition he's in, if the ship wasn't largely under control, we wouldn't be leaving."

"Right," Gibbs said. "Let me know immediately if there's any news on Harris, would you?"

"Of course, Agent Gibbs," Jefferson said.

Gibbs nodded and turned back towards the cabin. Just before he reached it, McGee walked up. "The director wants to talk to you, Boss," he said.

Gibbs looked at the phone and then took it with an inward sigh. "Gibbs."

"Delegating, hmm?" she asked in an amused tone.

"I need to get back to DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"Ziva's with him according to McGee." Gibbs gave McGee a glare that made the younger man's eyes widen. "I'm sure he'll be fine," Jenny went on. "Did you catch Harris? The CIA want to know."

"Why didn't you ask McGee?"

"He said he didn't know."

"They haven't, and it's unlikely that they will."

"Why?" she asked sharply.

"Because I shot him at the railing of the cargo ship," Gibbs said. "He went over, and they couldn't get anyone to him quickly enough. If they do find him, he'll only be fit for Ducky's table, not whatever the CIA want him for." He noticed suddenly that McGee was leaning back against the bulkhead beside the cabin door, clutching his side. "I have to go."

"Jethro, I –"

He hung up before he heard more. "McGee? What's wrong?"

McGee stood up straight, wincing. "I'm fine, Boss."

"That bullet hit you, McGee?"

"The vest took it, Boss," McGee replied.

Gibbs grabbed his arm and ushered him into the cabin. When he got McGee inside, he saw that Ziva had seated herself on the bunk beside DiNozzo. Her arm was around his shoulders, and he was leaning against her. She raised her finger to her lips, and Gibbs realized that he had fallen asleep despite the fact that Lt. Hagan was now checking his legs for further injuries.

Quietly, Gibbs hustled McGee out of his jacket and started unstrapping the Kevlar vest he wore underneath. McGee kept starting to protest, but everyone hushed him, so he gave up and helped Gibbs get him out of the vest. The minute he had access, Gibbs lifted McGee's shirt to look at the side he'd been favoring to reveal a livid bruise. "You didn't tell me you got hit, McGee," Gibbs said.

"It didn't seem important," McGee replied quietly. "Not at that moment."

Gibbs reached around and tapped Hagan on the shoulder. "I don't think DiNozzo has any broken bones. You want to take a look at this?"

Hagan's eyes widened at the sight of McGee's bruise, and Ziva's eyebrows went up. Hagan lowered DiNozzo's pants legs and rose, coming over to gently palpate McGee's ribs. McGee suppressed his reactions manfully, and after several moments she stood back. "There's definitely no displacement fracture," she said. "And I don't think anything's broken . . ." She looked up at Gibbs. "But I'd recommend x-rays at the earliest opportunity."

"Not a problem," Gibbs said.

"In the meantime, Agent McGee, I think you'd better get some rest," she said.

Gibbs pointed to the bunk he'd stolen the blanket from earlier, and McGee went over to sit down.

"What happened?" Ziva asked in a nearly inaudible voice, but they all should have known better.

"McGoo knocked me to the ground when Brody was going to shoot me," DiNozzo said without opening his eyes. "I felt him get hit, but adrenaline can be a distracting thing."

And again, Gibbs was reminded of why DiNozzo made such a good team member. He didn't think McGee had picked up on it, but he could see that Ziva recognized how DiNozzo was running interference for the younger agent, giving Gibbs a reason for McGee's failure to report his injury before Gibbs could even call him on it.

"DiNozzo, why don't you lie down and get some sleep?" Gibbs suggested.

DiNozzo finally opened his eyes and looked up. "I was sleeping," he said, but Gibbs got him to lie down and covered him up.

"It'll be another ninety minutes or so before we get to port, DiNozzo, and an ambulance will be waiting for you," Gibbs said.

Hagan returned with another ice pack and some pills for McGee. She bullied him into lying down with it pressed against his side. Gibbs held the door open for Ziva. Before he followed her out, he said, "DiNozzo, we'll just be on deck. Shout if you need anything." DiNozzo smiled slightly and nodded. Gibbs beckoned to Hagan with his head, and she came out on deck with them. "Let's just let him get some sleep till we hit port," he said, and she nodded.

"I don't think there's anything else I can do for him anyway," she said. "Apart from that ice bath he doesn't want. Call if you need anything." Gibbs nodded and leaned over the railing as the woman made her way aft.

Ziva took the spot next to him. "I did not mind his sleeping on me," she said. He shrugged. "He seemed to need the contact."

"I can believe that," Gibbs said. He wondered if he was going to get any goofy comments from her like he'd gotten from McGee. Ziva was more perceptive than McGee, and she certainly understood DiNozzo better than Kate ever had, but she still had her blind spots.

He supposed he'd better let Jenny know why he'd cut her off so suddenly. He was grateful that she hadn't called him back immediately. Sometimes he thought she'd forgotten what it was like to be in the field. "Director Shepard's office," said Cynthia.

"This is Agent Gibbs," he said, a little perturbed that she wasn't answering her own phone at the moment.

"Agent Gibbs, please hold on," Cynthia said.

A moment later, he heard Jenny's voice. "Jethro, what happened?"

"McGee needed medical attention, but he hadn't reported it yet."

"What kind of medical attention? How badly hurt is he?"

"Bruised ribs, maybe cracked," Gibbs said.

"What happened? Why didn't he report it?"

"He took a bullet in the vest that was meant for DiNozzo," Gibbs said, and he heard Jenny take a startled breath. "Good thing, too, or we might have lost DiNozzo." He'd been a second too slow on killing the bastard, another addition to the list of ways he'd failed his team – and DiNozzo in particular – on this case.

"Who shot him?"

"Harris," Gibbs said, and Jenny was silent for a moment. "We've left the Coast Guard in possession of the ship and are accompanying DiNozzo back to San Juan. An ambulance will pick him up at the dock and we'll have the initial check ups done here. I don't know how badly off DiNozzo is yet, but if he doesn't require immediate hospitalization, we'll come back to DC."

"And if he does?"

Gibbs shrugged. That was one of those questions she shouldn't ask. She already knew the answer, and she already didn't like it. "I'll let you know what's up once we've seen the doctor in San Juan."

"All right. How is he? And I don't mean physically."

"It's kind of hard to tell this soon, Jen," Gibbs said wearily. "He's still in shock."

"McGee seemed kind of disturbed when I spoke to him earlier."

Gibbs sighed, shaking his head. "He's young," he replied. Young and his world view was receiving a few updates he wasn't happy about, but Gibbs thought the director should be able to see that for herself. There were limits to how much of her job he was willing do to for her.

"See you this evening, Jethro," she said.

He smiled irritably at this transparent attempt to get him to commit to coming back to DC whether DiNozzo was up to it or not. "Later, Jenny," he replied and hung up before she could try again to pin him down.

"McGee?" Ziva asked, and Gibbs turned to her, raising his eyebrows. "You said 'he is young' and I wondered if you meant McGee."

A cry from the cabin behind them made them both turn at once.


	14. Chapter 14

_It all happened in slow motion.  Tony stepped back away from Brody’s gun, aware that the man was going to shoot him for the same reason spoiled children smash toys they’re forced to share.  Possession isn’t any fun if it’s not absolute.  He couldn’t dodge quickly enough, so he was going to die._

_Then a dark figure hurtled towards him out of nowhere, smashing him to the ground.  Tony felt the jolt to one of their bodies when Brody fired.  For a moment he lay stunned beneath his unknown savior, very much alive.  Then he saw hair that was familiar.  “Probie?” he asked, startled.  The figure didn’t move.  “McGoo?” he asked again, pushing upwards, trying to stir McGee to life.  With a Herculean effort, he heaved the man further up and stared in horror into McGee’s lifeless eyes.  “No!”_

_Abruptly, McGee’s body was pulled off him and thrown to the side, and Tony stared up at Brody in shock.  Without a word, Brody bent and seized Tony by the arm and jerked him to his feet.  “Mine,” Brody growled, and he started dragging Tony deeper into the cargo hold.  Devastated, Tony looked back at the rag doll figure of McGee where he lay in a spreading pool of blood.  McGee had a family . . . friends . . . Tony had killed him.  His stupidity had killed –_

* * *

“Tony?  Tony, wake up!”  Tony jerked awake and stared up into concerned green eyes.  “That must have been some dream,” McGee said.  Tony sat up and hugged him, thankful for the moment that he was alive.  After a few seconds, McGee brought his arms up and hesitantly hugged him back.  Tony felt himself shaking as he remembered both the dream and the real events.  Abruptly, realization surged through him.  He reached up and gave McGee a solid smack on the back of his head.

McGee drew back sharply.  “What was that for?”

“Don’t ever do that again, McGee!” he growled.

“What?”

“Jump in front of a bullet like that!  You could have been killed.”

“Well, forgive me for saving your life.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Tony exclaimed.  “I just – damn it, Tim, you have something to live for.  You shouldn’t throw it away like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” McGee demanded.  “That you don’t?”

“Not like you!” Tony snapped.  McGee’s look of astonished dismay made him realize that he’d said too much.  The sound of breathing to his left alerted him to other presences, and when he looked up, he saw that both Ziva and Gibbs had heard him as well.  Great . . .  In an effort to change the subject, he said, “Where’s your ice pack, Probie?”

“What?” McGee asked, his expression changing to confusion.

Gibbs took a step sideways and picked up the cold pack.  “He’s right, McGee.  Why don’t you and Ziva go find someplace to sit?”

“Um, sure, Boss,” McGee said.  Tony looked at the corner of the room while Ziva and McGee left.

“I don’t want to talk, Gibbs,” Tony said.

“Wasn’t going to ask you to, DiNozzo,” Gibbs replied.

Startled, Tony turned to look at him.  “Then why’d you send them away?”

“Because you’re going to go back to sleep now,” Gibbs said, sitting down on the bunk McGee had left.

“I am?” Tony asked.

“You are,” Gibbs said, kicking back on the bunk.  Slightly bemused by Gibbs’ reaction, Tony lay back again and pulled the covers up.  Evidently he didn’t do an adequate job, because Gibbs was at his side in a moment tucking him in tightly.  “Go to sleep, Tony.  I’ll be right here.”

Tony nodded.  “Good.  Thanks, Boss.”

Gibbs ruffled his hair and then went back to settle on the opposite bunk.

Tony closed his eyes and almost instantly drifted off.

It seemed to him that only a few moments had passed when Gibbs touched his shoulder to awaken him.  He blinked perplexedly up at his boss.  Hadn’t Gibbs just ordered him to go to sleep?  Then he noticed a difference in the quality of the light.  The cabin was lit only by electric lighting.  The sun had set.

“How are you feeling, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked.

Like crap, Tony thought.  “I’ll live.”

“I know that, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said with a hint of irritation.  “That’s not what I asked.”

Tony shrugged.  “So, did you say something about an ambulance?  I thought we’d just go back to DC.”

“I want to get you checked out ASAP,” Gibbs said, and Tony grimaced.  “Do you think you can get your shoes on?”

Tony looked down at the bandages Lt. Hagan had swathed his feet in and raised an eyebrow.  “I’m not really sure.  Which shoes do I have?”  Gibbs put a small duffel bag on the bed beside him and Tony dug through till he found a pair a loose canvas slip-ons he thought would work.  Bending to put them on proved to be a little more painful than he would normally have expected, however.  Gibbs grabbed the shoe in his hand and knelt down.  “Boss, I can . . .”  He trailed off since it was very clear that Gibbs wasn’t listening.

The older man gently guided Tony’s feet into his shoes and looked up at him.  “Honestly, DiNozzo, you look like crap.”

“Better than after the plague?” Tony asked, remembering another time when Gibbs had been exceptionally blunt about Tony’s less than optimal appearance.

“Well, yeah, DiNozzo, you don’t look like you just crawled off your deathbed,” Gibbs said, and Tony snorted.  “Seriously, do you feel up to walking?”

Tony shrugged again.  “I don’t know why not,” he said.  “Like you said earlier, no broken bones.  I don’t think he did any . . .”  He bit his lip.  “. . . any internal damage.”

“You sure about that?” Gibbs asked.

“Well, I need the head.”  The naval term brought his close call with another interpretation of the word to mind and he suppressed a shudder that Gibbs wouldn’t understand.  “That should give us some idea.”  Gibbs helped him up, and Tony discovered that the soles of his feet were extremely tender.  He hobbled beside Gibbs to the head, made swift use of the facilities, and found to his dismay that Gibbs’ rape kit wouldn’t be as useless as he’d expected.  God, he wanted to be clean.  He emerged, ready to tell Gibbs some of the things he probably both needed and wanted to know, but someone had evidently alerted Ziva and McGee to the fact that he was up and about.  He wasn’t prepared to talk freely in front of them.

Ziva was in mid-sentence when he opened the door, and she broke off speaking.  The four words he heard before she stopped told him nothing useful about the conversation, however.  _“– and I do not –”_   All three of them looked at him when he stepped out into the companionway.

“We there yet?” Tony asked.

“Actually, we are,” Gibbs said.  “Ziva and McGee will be catching a cab, and I’ll ride with you.”

“In the ambulance?” Tony asked unnecessarily.  To cover his embarrassment over having stated the painfully obvious, he launched a change of subject.  “Probie, Ziva, I can recommend a nice little bar down on Via del Rio, good food, nice views.  I’m sure you could keep occupied there while I finish up my business at the hospital.”  Not only would they have a good time, it would keep them out of his way.  They both had a habit of turning up when he was saying something he’d rather they didn’t hear.  Ziva in particular.

“It’s been four years, DiNozzo.  Do you really think that place is still there?”

“They have a website, Boss.  Admittedly, I can’t vouch for their cook for certain, but –”

“Besides, McGee needs to be x-rayed.”

“I’m fine, Boss.”

“Don’t you start!” Gibbs growled.

“If he has broken bones, he should be in the ambulance.  I’m pretty sure I’m getting away with just a tetanus shot and some antibiotics.”

“You were missing in unfriendly hands for thirty-six hours, DiNozzo.”

Tony snorted.  “Unfriendly, huh?” he said.  “Is there somewhere I can sit down again?”

“Yes, DiNozzo, in the ambulance,” Gibbs replied.

Tony sighed and looked around.  “You know, I have no idea which way to go.”

“This way.”  Tony hobbled after Gibbs, painfully aware of Ziva and McGee following behind him at the slow pace he was forced to set.  He didn’t look up when they passed through the bridge.  He didn’t want to see the pitying or disgusted looks he had to be getting from the coast guard crew.  The ambulance was waiting literally on the dock, and as soon as he’d cleared the gangway, the EMTs came up and guided him to a gurney.

“I don’t need to lie down.”

“Well, you certainly don’t need to walk, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.

Tony allowed himself to be positioned on the gurney and strapped down, though he insisted on keeping his arms outside the straps.  He really wasn’t liking the restraints, but Gibbs was nearby, so he thought he could manage to cope.  Before too long, they were tucked up neatly in the back of the ambulance, Gibbs sitting beside Tony’s left shoulder.

“How are you feeling, Agent DiNozzo?” asked the EMT on Tony’s other side.

“Peachy,” Tony said.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said warningly.

Tony shrugged and bit his lip when that caused pain in his shoulders and obliques.  “I’m in a lot of pain,” he muttered.

“Any specific location?”

Tony considered the question.  “Yes,” he said and paused trying to come up with a way to express it.

“DiNozzo!”

Tony looked up at Gibbs desperately.  “Boss, I’m not trying to be a pain, seriously.  I just . . . everything hurts.  Everywhere.”

* * *

Gibbs grimaced at the pathetic look on DiNozzo’s face.  He had to get a handle on his frustration.  Tony didn’t need it right now.  He nodded and ruffled the younger man’s hair to tell him he wasn’t really angry.  DiNozzo grew visibly less distressed

“I see,” the EMT said.  “On a scale of one to five, one being a stubbed toe and five being childbirth, how would you rate your pain?”

Tony blinked.  “I’ve never given birth, so I’m not sure I can judge that second one.”

The EMT shrugged.  “Well, Carol Burnett described it as taking your bottom lip and pulling it over your head.  If you –”

“I remember that!” Tony exclaimed and Gibbs gave the EMT an alarmed look.  The last thing they needed was DiNozzo going off on a media tangent.  “That was hysterical.”

“Oh, she rocks,” the EMT said.  “I’ve got the whole _Carol Burnett Show_ on DVD, and every movie she’s ever been in.”

“What’s your favorite?” Tony asked, and Gibbs resigned himself to a continued lack of information about anything besides Carol Burnett, at least until they left this particular EMT behind.  It did keep Tony calm, which couldn’t be a bad thing.  On the other hand, it was allowing Tony to ignore what had happened, which couldn’t be good.

A couple of orderlies came to greet them as Tony was wheeled in the emergency room.  “This our rape victim?”  Gibbs saw Tony’s flush and grimaced.  He knew that medical personnel couldn’t personally identify with each and every one of their patients, but there was a difference between being clinical and being callous.

“This is Tony DiNozzo,” the EMT said, a hint of Gibbs’ own reaction in his tone.

The orderly nodded.  “Let’s bring him in here,” he said, guiding the gurney towards a curtained off cubicle.  Once he had them moving, he turned towards Gibbs, presenting himself as an obstacle.  “The waiting room is through there.”

“Boss?” Tony said as they took him into the cubicle.  A moment later the EMT emerged with his gurney, and Gibbs slipped past the obstructive orderly.  Tony was standing up while the second orderly tried to get him to sit down.  “Boss?”

“I’m here, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.

“I’m going to need you to change into a gown for me,” said the second orderly.  “And get up onto the table.”

Tony nodded slowly but he didn’t move.  “Boss, have you got an evidence bag?”

“Of course.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you wait outside, at least while your friend changes.”

Gibbs looked at Tony.  “I should probably get the forms started, DiNozzo.  I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony said, and Gibbs stepped out.  He walked over to the desk to get the forms and a pen, but when he turned back towards Tony’s cubicle, he found the obstructive orderly in his way.

“Sir, I think you should let us handle this,” the man said.

Gibbs gazed at the sober face for a moment, then glanced down at his name badge, then shifted his gaze back up to the man’s eyes.  “Are you interfering in an NCIS investigation, Corpsman Jones?” he asked in a mild tone.  Jones apparently hadn’t expected that kind of response, because he blinked and didn’t immediately speak.  “Or do you have a problem with Navy cops?”

“Of course not, sir,” the corpsman said solemnly.  “I just want to take care of my patient, and I don’t think the man needs his boss looming over him at a time like this.”

“So you think that a rape victim should be left alone, is that it?” Gibbs asked, his temper mounting.  “Get out of my way before I move you.”

“Sir, why don’t you get those forms started,”  Jones said, gesturing towards the waiting room, “and I’ll have a doctor come talk to you.”

Gibbs watched the man walk away and crossed to the cubicle.  DiNozzo was sitting on the table, his legs and arms almost completely bared by the hospital gown.  He looked up as Gibbs came in, and the second orderly gave Gibbs a wary look.  Gibbs noted his name as well, for future reference.  Corpsman Hernandez.

“I don’t suppose you could help me get the shoes off, Boss?” Tony asked.

“Sure, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, squatting and gently easing the canvas shoes off his feet.  He put them aside and stood up.

“The doctor should be along in a few moments,” Hernandez said.  Gibbs sat down in a chair and began filling out the forms.

Jones stuck his head in and then stepped inside, looking irritated.  “I asked you to wait outside,” he said to Gibbs.

Gibbs was about to explain to the man in words of one syllable just what he could do with his request when Tony spoke up.  “I’d really rather he stayed,” he said.  “Where are my pants?”

“I put them in an evidence bag for CID,” Hernandez said.

Gibbs’ brows knit.  “Where are they?” he asked.

Hernandez gestured towards a tub.  Gibbs walked over and looked down at the garments which had been placed very properly in evidence bags, though the bags themselves were labeled improperly.  Army CID didn’t have anything to do with this case.  Glowering over at Hernandez, he pulled out his phone and dialed quickly.  “Ziva, I need you in cubicle five to take charge of some evidence,” he said when she’d answered.  Then he slapped his phone shut and gazed imperturbably at Hernandez.

“CID will –” Hernandez started to say, but Gibbs cut him off.

“CID will not be investigating this case,” he said.  “We’re here only because it was the nearest hospital to the Coast Guard station.  This is an NCIS case.”

Jones had disappeared and a moment later he came back.  “Here he is, ma’am,” he said, holding the curtain aside for another person to enter.

Gibbs looked over irritably and froze.  Holly looked utterly stunning as always in full uniform.  He’d all but forgotten that she was in Puerto Rico.  No one spoke for a long moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there is, in fact, an Army medical facility in San Juan, Puerto Rico. It's called the Rodriguez Army Health Clinic, but it's not actually a hospital. I looked at their website and couldn't find reference even to an emergency room. That doesn't mean they don't have one, but I couldn't find anything pointing in that direction. I wanted, for obvious reasons, to use an Army facility, so I rendered my hospital generic (no names) and went from there.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I just glanced at IMdB to double-check something about Holly and discovered that she has appeared in two episodes since the last time I saw her. Please note that my last encounter with Hollis Mann was Season 5, Episode 3, and the story is set later in Season 5, mostly during the writer's strike. I adored the character and couldn't resist using her.
> 
> Also, this is well before DiNozzo Sr. appeared on the show, so when Tony references him and his marital habits, it's all my own invention. This story does briefly introduce my invented current stepmother for Tony, Joyce, who appears in others of my stories, one of which I will start posting when this one is done. That's awhile off, but coming.

Holly took in the tableau before her with some shock. She had been informed that an NCIS team was working with the Coast Guard to recover an NCIS agent who was in trouble aboard ship, but no one had mentioned names or even which office the team worked out of. They weren't requesting help, and she had her own investigations. Until Corpsman Jones had tracked her down on her way out of the hospital, she hadn't expected to get involved with the NCIS investigation at all.

Walking in here to see Tony DiNozzo looking like he'd gotten the worst end of a severe beating and Jethro Gibbs looking like murder was on his list of things to do today discomposed her to the extent that she didn't quite know what to say.

DiNozzo looked up at her from the hospital bed with an unwontedly serious and altogether pathetic expression. "Hi," he said.

She walked to his side. His face was badly bruised, as was most of his exposed skin. The marks on his neck suggested attempts at strangulation, and there were clear ligature marks on his wrists. "Agent DiNozzo, are you all right?" she asked involuntarily.

Gibbs turned. "Does he look all right?" he demanded in an angry voice. "What the hell is going on here?"

Holly looked over at Corpsman Jones, who appeared startled. "Corpsman Jones caught me and said he had a problem with an NCIS agent who wouldn't cooperate with his instructions." He'd told her a great deal more, but she was only now realizing what his hurried words meant. Had he said 'rape'? That put an unpleasant light on DiNozzo's injuries. She hoped passionately that Corpsman Jones' errors extended to more than just interpretation. She turned to Gibbs. "Do I take it that's you?"

Jethro shrugged, glowering darkly at Jones. "I guess so," he said.

Jones cleared his throat. "I simply asked Agent Gibbs to allow his subordinate some space," he said defensively. "He doesn't need a 'boss,' he needs –"

"Does anyone care what I want?" Tony asked, and Holly turned towards him.

"Of course, Agent DiNozzo," she said, prepared to give it to him even if it meant ejecting Jethro. "What do you want?"

DiNozzo glared at Jones. "I want the guy who called me 'our rape victim' to stop trying to decide who gets to stay with me," he said firmly, and Holly turned to Jones. The corpsman flushed slightly. "And little as I like the idea of my . . . evidence . . . being delivered to Abby, I'd rather she handled it than anyone else."

Holly nodded sympathetically. "I can understand that, and I'll see to it," she said. Rape victim. So DiNozzo _had_ been raped. No wonder Jethro exuded murderous hostility. "I'd heard there was an NCIS team here, and some of the circumstances, but I didn't know it was you."

Tentative hands opened the curtain and Holly turned to see Officer David entering the cubicle. Their eyes met, and David froze. Clearly none of them had been expecting her. "Colonel Mann," she exclaimed. "I did not – I –" The young woman's eyes darted sideways to examine DiNozzo, and it was clear from her expression that she had not seen his condition before this moment, or at least not the full extent of it.

"Officer David, it's good to see you."

Officer David looked around, clearly not sure what she'd walked in on. "The evidence is over here, Ziva," Gibbs said.

Seeming grateful for the direction, she took the tub. "I left McGee waiting in radiology," she said.

"Thank you, Ziva. I'll call you if we need anything."

"CID has an office here in the hospital if you need to leave anything in a secure location," Holly proffered.

"Our case, Colonel Mann," Gibbs said. He was definitely Gibbs at the moment.

"Your case, Special Agent Gibbs," she replied. "But if you need to lock the evidence up for the time being, I can arrange for it."

He nodded and she made a call. Lt. Reyes arrived and took Officer David away with him. In the meantime, Jones and Hernandez disappeared. "Thank you," Gibbs said.

"Agent McGee is injured?"

"He took a bullet in the vest," Gibbs said.

"You know, you two could just pretend I'm not here for a few minutes," DiNozzo said suddenly. "I could close my eyes; I might even fall asleep." Neither she nor Gibbs responded, but she did glance at Gibbs. There was an almost paternal look in the man's eyes, an expression of amusement warring with worry. "Seriously!" DiNozzo added earnestly. "I wouldn't peek. It's a mom and dad sort of thing. I wouldn't want to."

Holly blinked at him. "I'm not old enough to be your mother, Agent DiNozzo," she said, momentarily diverted by his babbling.

He shrugged, trying to conceal how much the movement hurt him. "You're older than my last three stepmothers," he said. "And two of them wanted me to call them mom."

She felt her eyebrows go up. That was more than she'd ever known about the man. DiNozzo babbled incessantly, but in his own way he was just as uncommunicative as Gibbs. "Really?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "But that's hardly important right now." Holly nodded, feeling slightly chastened. DiNozzo had a real gift of gab.

"Absolutely right, Boss. Your reunion with Colonel Mann – congratulations on the promotion, by the way – is way more important than –" Gibbs walked over to DiNozzo's side and gave him an incredibly gentle tap on the top of his head. Gentle for Gibbs, at least. "Boss?"

"Quit changing the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject!" DiNozzo protested. "There has to be a subject to change, and we weren't talking."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped, and the younger man fell silent. "Even if you discover that the doctor has a lifelong love of John Wayne or Jimmy Stewart, or if you played football together at any point, I don't want you to go off on a digression about it. You got that?"

"I don't do it on purpose," DiNozzo said. "Usually."

"I know. It's a coping mechanism." Gibbs shrugged. "Cope less!"

DiNozzo flushed and looked away. At that moment the doctor walked in. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo?" he said.

"Tony," DiNozzo replied.

"I'm Dr. Jack Branchard. Call me Jack." DiNozzo nodded. "I understand you have been raped," the doctor said gently.

Tony's adam's apple bobbed as he gulped. "Yes," he said, his voice almost a whisper. Holly noticed Gibbs nodding and she glanced over at him. He had a peculiarly satisfied look on his face, and she wondered where it was coming from.

"Then the first order of business is a rape kit," Dr. Branchard said. "As a federal agent you know that, though." DiNozzo sighed, and Branchard turned to them. "Can we clear the space for the moment? I will need to do some very personal examinations, so we'll need some privacy. Investigation can come later."

Holly turned to go, but Gibbs didn't. "DiNozzo?"

"Go, Boss," DiNozzo said, but Gibbs didn't seem satisfied.

He leaned down close to DiNozzo's face. "You sure, Tony?"

DiNozzo nodded, his eyes closing. "Go. Just . . . don't go far?"

Gibbs ruffled DiNozzo's hair and turned towards her. Ever the gentleman – when there was time – he gestured for her to precede him and they stepped just outside the cubicle. Once they were outside, he tugged the curtain to and let out a quiet but no less heartfelt expletive.

"What?"

"Good as it is to see you, Holly, I could wish you were anywhere else at this moment," Gibbs said.

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"If DiNozzo wasn't determined to give us our 'reunion,' I would still be in there."

"You think he would have asked you to stay for that?" she asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "I don't know, probably. He . . ." Gibbs rubbed his forehead and stared at the floor.

"We could sit down over there," she said, pointing at a couple of chairs about fifteen feet away against a wall. He looked for a long moment, as if gauging if they would be close enough, then led the way. She sat next to him and considered his mood. Anger still seethed beneath the surface, and she had to admit to a fair amount of anger of her own. Rape was a vile crime, and DiNozzo was clearly taking it very hard. She looked at Gibbs and tilted her head. "I've got to ask," she said, and he raised his eyebrows. "Cope less?"

He shrugged. "He's been avoiding the subject pretty heavily."

"Jethro, he was just raped. That's –"

"It's denial," he said. "And it's gone on for too long."

She didn't speak immediately, letting that percolate. He simply sat, staring grimly at the closed curtain. "Too long?" she prompted finally.

Gibbs looked at her. "Am I speaking to Colonel Mann? Or to Holly?"

She blinked. "Are there any army personnel involved in this?"

"None whatsoever," he replied. "This was just the closest hospital."

"Then you're talking to Holly," she said. What the hell was this?

"DiNozzo's been involved in an abusive relationship," Jethro replied. "I didn't pick up on it until this week."

Every muscle in his face, every line of his body told her that he blamed himself for something. "How long was it going on for?"

He didn't reply immediately, and when he did, his voice was very flat. "Four months. Three months of relationship, one month of stalking and thirty-six hours of outright abduction."

"Good God," Holly murmured. "And you found out –"

"Tuesday," Gibbs growled. "I found out Tuesday."

If DiNozzo had been tolerating abuse for four months and Gibbs had known for less than a week, Holly could see why he was so upset. "He does undercover work," she said. "He's good at hiding things."

"Not from me!" Jethro retorted sharply, and Holly decided not to remind him of the long term operation Tony had engaged in under his nose. She knew no particulars, only that it had ended badly and severely damaged DiNozzo's self-esteem.

"I didn't know DiNozzo was interested in men," she said after a moment.

"I don't think he is," Gibbs said. "He was maneuvered into this relationship. The guy was an expert at playing on vulnerability, and he caught Tony at a low point."

"Who was he?" she asked, wondering if the verb tense was a slip of the tongue or an accurate statement of fact.

"A DC cop," Gibbs said sourly, and her eyes widened.

"Where is he now?"

"Somewhere in the Atlantic, I think," Gibbs replied. "When we left, they hadn't found him yet. I shot him, and he went overboard."

"Agent Gibbs?" It was Branchard, and Gibbs was on his feet and beside the doctor before she had even fully registered the call. She rose and followed a little more slowly to find that Jethro had already gone into the cubicle. She opened the curtain hesitantly, not sure what she would find, ready to retreat if DiNozzo was still in position to be examined.

He was not. She stepped inside and closed the curtain.

"Tell him we're going home, Boss," DiNozzo said. "I am not staying here unless it involves tanning."

Gibbs turned to Branchard. "Does he need to stay?"

"Well, I'd really prefer he stay for observation. There are concerns with bruising this extensive, and I'd rather –"

"Is there a medical reason why he couldn't fly to Washington DC and go to Bethesda instead?"

"Bethesda!" DiNozzo exclaimed. "I just want to go home. And by home, I mean your place, because I think I'm going to replace a lot of my furniture."

Branchard didn't pay any attention to DiNozzo. "No, I suppose not. There isn't any severe tearing, so no surgery will be required."

"What else?"

"He needs a tetanus booster, I'm prescribing some pain killers, some antibiotics, both oral and topical, and I'd recommend a psychiatric evaluation."

"Boss!" DiNozzo exclaimed.

"Given an understanding that he'll go straight to Bethesda when we get to DC, when can you release him?"

"Another hour, possibly two."

Gibbs nodded. "DiNozzo, you try to get some rest. I need to go check on McGee," he said. He turned towards the curtain and gave Holly a significant look. She nodded. Of course she'd stay with his agent. "I'll be back soon, DiNozzo."

"Don't hurry, Boss," DiNozzo said, and Gibbs turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. "Make sure he's okay." Holly was mildly startled by the obvious and sincere concern he showed for the younger agent, who was usually the butt of his jokes. "Make sure he's okay."

Gibbs waved a hand in DiNozzo's general direction, and Holly walked further into the cubicle.

"Someone will be in shortly to give you your injection," Dr. Branchard said. "And I'll be back shortly with an antibiotic ointment."

He left as Holly walked over and took the seat next to the head of the examination table. DiNozzo turned to her. "Babysitting detail?" he asked.

"You really do want to make me feel old, don't you?" she said with amusement.

"No, ma'am," DiNozzo said, looking nervous.

She laughed at his discomfiture. "I _am_ old enough to be your babysitter," she admitted. He nodded and rested his head back on the table. She got up and rummaged in a nearby cupboard, fashioning him a pillow out of several hospital gowns. He raised his head when she presented it and smiled his thanks. "You really had stepmothers younger than me expect you to call them mom?"

DiNozzo snorted. "Ashlee, with two Es," he said. "She's only five years older than me. So far the old man has never actually married anyone younger than me."

She noted the specificity of that statement. It sounded as though dating might not be included. "Is Ashlee current?"

"No. His current wife is Joyce, and she wants me to call her Joyce, thank God. She's also, shockingly enough, almost old enough to be my mother. She would have been jailbait, but . . ." He shrugged. "She's also lasted a while. Three, no, almost four years. Either he's figured out that the revolving door is getting expensive and embarrassing, or she can put up with him. Regardless, it does mean I haven't had to go to any parental weddings in a while."

"Your mother?"

"Died when I was ten," DiNozzo said with unusual brevity.

Holly grimaced. She knew next to nothing about Agent DiNozzo, and this moment seemed like a bad one to be finding things out. "I'm sorry."

"No big deal," DiNozzo said with an air of unconcern that she found less than credible. "It's been a while. So, are you enjoying Puerto Rico?"

She shrugged. "Not my first choice, truthfully."

"What's not to like?" he asked. "Sun, surf, mostly naked people . . ."

"Believe it or not, that gets boring after a while," she said.

He turned to her with wide eyes. "Either you're a lot older than you look, or you're pulling my leg. Naked people do not get boring, especially not naked women." He paused, blinking. "Though I probably shouldn't be talking about naked women with you. You're my boss's girlfriend, and I'm not sure he'd –"

"DiNozzo?" she said, cutting into his babble. He broke off and looked at her with eyes that were going ever so slightly vague. "Did Dr. Branchard give you pain medication?"

DiNozzo nodded, grinning foolishly. "I think it's beginning to kick in," he said. "There's a square inch on my left foot that doesn't hurt."

She glanced in the direction he was pointing. There were bloody bandages beside his feet on the table. She got up and looked at the soles of his feet which were marred by jagged cuts and gashes. "What happened?" she asked.

"I think _el capitán_ was a little too lax with his crew," DiNozzo replied "The floors in that cargo hold were crap."

Holly sat back down. "You were running around barefoot in the hold of a cargo ship?"

DiNozzo nodded. "Socks were too slippery."

"And they wouldn't have protected you from that," she observed.

"If I'd known we were going out, I would have put my shoes on, I can assure you," he said. "But there was no warning. One minute I'm trying to avoid giving Brody a blow job, the next we're being dragged out on deck so _el capitán_ can threaten to kill me." He blinked. "I didn't just say all that out loud, did I?"

"No, of course not," she said, a little stunned by the wealth of horror conveyed by that sentence.

"Oh, good." He lolled his head back. "They didn't even give me the good stuff," he added. "You should see what I'm like on morphine."

"I'm sure it's a sight to see."

"Kate used to make fun of me," he said. "And she'd ask me unfair questions, then tease me later about the answers." He sighed. "I miss Kate. Not that I'm not glad to have Ziva but . . . wow, that's an interesting thought. How would Kate and Ziva have gotten along? Kate was so . . . and Ziva's so . . ." He looked over at her. "You'd have liked Kate."

"I'm sure I would," she said, resolving to ask Jethro about this Kate person later.

"Yeah . . ." DiNozzo's eyes drifted shut, and a moment later he started snoring. She sat watching him sleep, worrying. Gibbs thought the world of this boy. She didn't know him very well, Gibbs wasn't big on socializing with his team, but from things he'd said, things he'd done, she knew that DiNozzo was important to Jethro.

The curtain opened and she looked up. A nurse came in and, after swabbing DiNozzo's arm with some alcohol, she gave him a shot. DiNozzo didn't even stir, and Holly found herself wondering how much sleep he'd been getting over the last few days.

Gibbs came in as the nurse left. When he'd closed the curtain, she rose and walked over to give him a hug. He hugged her tightly, then released her and went to DiNozzo's side. "How long's he been sleeping?"

"Ten minutes or so," she said. "When the nurse gave him a shot just now, he didn't even blink."

"Good. I don't think he got any real sleep since the bastard took him, and I know he's been sleeping like crap since Tuesday for sure. Before that, I can't be certain, but I doubt it was any different."

She cleared her throat. "The bastard?" she said, and Gibbs looked up. "The one you shot, was his name Brody?"

"Yeah." Gibbs straightened slowly. "Why?"

"Just something he said," she replied. "I wanted to make sure there wasn't a second attacker."

Gibbs' hands fisted, then relaxed. "I see. He talk in his sleep?"

"No, after the pain meds kicked in. You should be careful never to leave him alone with someone you don't trust when he's on pain meds."

Gibbs nodded. "I know. Alcohol makes him talk, but what he says has no depth. Pain meds make him babble randomly." He sighed. "What did he say?"

"Enough to make me very glad you shot the bastard. Who is _el capitán_?"

"The captain of the cargo ship he was on," Gibbs said.

"Ah."

"Specifics, Holly?"

"Shouldn't you ask him?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "He's asleep."

"I had noticed," she said mildly, and Gibbs glowered at her. "I gather _el capitán_ used him as a hostage?"

Gibbs nodded. "See that sort of rectangular bruise there?" he asked, pointing to a spot under DiNozzo's chin. She nodded. "One of the crewmen shoved a gun there and Captain Magaña suggested that we trade him for the ship's freedom."

"Well, I gather that moment interrupted a sexual assault," she said.

Gibbs bit his lip and looked away. "Charming."

"So, who is Kate?"

"Kate?" Gibbs repeated, looking startled, difficult to read emotions flickering deep in his eyes. "He mentioned Kate?"

"Yes," she said, not sure what she'd brought up. "He said he misses her." Gibbs rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Said I'd have liked her."

"You would have," he said. "You'd also have found her frustrating."

"Who was she?" Holly asked, clear now that the woman was dead.

"She was a member of my team a few years back, before Ziva. She . . . she was shot."

From the desolate agony in his eyes, Holly could see that there was a lot more to that story, but now was most certainly not the time to ask for it. Perhaps she should ask Ducky the next time she was in DC. "He also wondered aloud if she and Ziva would have gotten along," she said, hoping the question would distract him from his inner vista.

It did. His eyes sharpened on her and he looked blank for a moment, then he actually laughed. "No, I don't think they would," he said.

"No?"

He shook his head. "Kate's views were diametrically opposed to Ziva's," he said. "On most things, including DiNozzo."

Holly's brows knit. "Are you saying that Kate didn't like DiNozzo?"

Gibbs shrugged. "She cared about him, but she didn't understand him."

"And Ziva does?"

"She comes closer," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo is not a what you see is what you get kind of guy, and his masks can be hard to penetrate."

Gibbs was being more forthcoming than she'd ever seen him about his team. Before she could elicit anything else, though, the doctor came back in. "I need to . . . has he fallen asleep?"

"Pain meds do that to him sometimes," Gibbs said.

"Are you sure he shouldn't stay the night?" Branchard asked.

"I've already arranged a flight," Gibbs said. "He can sleep on the plane." He put a hand on DiNozzo's shoulder. "Tony?"

DiNozzo started and looked up. "Boss," he said. "How's McGee?"

"Bruises only. Nothing broken."

"Good. Dumb probie!"

"Dr. Branchard needs to give you some kind of treatment."

Holly took a few steps back and watched Jethro help DiNozzo get through the treatments. She saw a lot more than either man had probably intended she should, but all it did was make her even more glad that this Brody fellow was dead. Bruises everywhere, handprints, abrasions on his buttocks . . . she found herself hoping the bastard had drowned while in terrible pain from the gunshot.

Branchard handed over his prescriptions and copies of the records from the visit. She walked up and plucked the prescription out of Jethro's hand and hurried off to get it filled so he wouldn't have to leave DiNozzo again. On her way through, she saw McGee sitting in the waiting room. He got up and hurried over to her, one hand on his ribs. "How is he?" he asked. "Ziva just said there were a lot of bruises."

"They gave him pain medication."

McGee's eyes widened. "He didn't say anything embarrassing, did he?" he asked.

"No, of course not," Holly said, but McGee didn't seem willing to take her disclaimer at face value.

"He did, didn't he!" he exclaimed. "He's going to freak. He –"

She raised her eyebrows. "That is not the appropriate response to what I said, Agent McGee," she said with quiet emphasis.

McGee blinked. "Oh. Right. Um . . . good. Glad to hear it."

"Better," she said with a smile. "I'm going to go pick up his prescriptions."

"I can get that," McGee said.

"Maybe you'd better sit back down," Holly suggested. "What did the doctor say?"

"Well, he said I should rest," McGee replied. "But I can –"

"Go sit down," she said. "Where's Ziva?"

McGee flushed. "She's getting my prescription."

Holly raised an eyebrow and the boy sat down in the nearest chair. Jethro's team certainly demonstrated an enviable closeness, but that didn't surprise her. Jethro inspired loyalty himself, and while he demanded a great deal from his people, he always got it. That kind of dependability fostered closeness. She dropped the prescription off and Ziva offered to wait for it as well, so Holly headed back to the emergency room. When she got into the cubicle, she found DiNozzo fully dressed and sitting up. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved green t-shirt with a crew neck. The bruises and bite marks on his neck and face remained clearly visible, but everything else was decently hidden. His feet dangled off the table, black socks covering the bandages. Gibbs was sitting in the chair, the navy blue canvas shoes she'd seen on the floor earlier in his hands.

"I can't wear those shoes with these pants, Boss," DiNozzo said. Holly bit her lips to avoid grinning. DiNozzo sounded so offended. Of course, the only thing that saved Tony DiNozzo from the description 'metrosexual' was the occasional grungy day and his willingness to wear uniforms when necessary. "Seriously, Boss, no way."

"Okay, wheelchair it is," Gibbs said, and he started to slip the shoes into a bag.

"Boss, I know there were some black tennis shoes in that duffel Ziva brought."

"Number one, I am not going to go hunt down that duffel," Gibbs said. "Number two, a solid arch support is the last thing you need on your feet right now. Even these floppy things are a little too stiff according to the doctor. Running shoes are out for the next week."

"Boss –"

"Holly, will you find me a wheelchair?"

"They'd make him go out to the car in one anyway," she said. "When they're ready to discharge him –"

The curtain opened behind her and Corpsman Hernandez came in, and true to prediction, he was pushing a wheelchair. "The paperwork you need to sign is at the desk, Agent DiNozzo," he said. He walked over and added, "Lean on me and let's get you into the chair."

With Gibbs helping from the other side, the corpsman got DiNozzo into the wheelchair and Gibbs zipped the bag up, ending the conversation about shoes rather neatly, she thought. He dumped the bag on DiNozzo's lap, however, and took control of the chair. "Which way?"

Corpsman Hernandez led the way to the desk, and Holly walked beside Gibbs. "Do you have a car lined up to get you to the airstrip?"

Gibbs shook his head. "You got an alternative to a cab?"

"I think I can fit all of you into my car," she said. She glanced over at the clerk. "How much time does he need to finish his paperwork?"

"Ten minutes at the most," she said, giving DiNozzo a motherly smile. "Your boss got most of it done already, Agent DiNozzo. I just need you to sign some forms and . . ."

Holly tuned her out. "I'll go grab my car and meet you outside the front entrance."

"Thank you, Colonel Mann," Gibbs said with a smile.

"Anytime, Special Agent Gibbs," she replied.

* * *

Tony watched Colonel Mann walk away and took the clipboard from the charming lady behind the desk. Her name tag said, "Rosa." His signature was required in a number of locations. McGee and Ziva walked up, and he braced himself for invasive questions from her and awkward comments from him, but neither of them spoke. Ziva just put a hand on his shoulder, and McGee tried not to show how much pain he was in.

"Aww, how cute," Tony said, grinning up at McGee. "The probie's being stoic."

McGee glowered at him, and Tony wondered why. He continued signing his name where Rosa pointed. Gibbs gestured with his head towards the men's room and walked away, and Tony felt a distressing sense of abandonment as he went. He knew Gibbs wasn't leaving, he knew he'd be back in five minute or less, but having the man nearby made him feel safe. It was pathetic. He handed the clipboard back to Rosa and sat back.

"Ziva, can you pull me away? I'm sure Rosa needs a little more room."

"Of course, Tony," she said, and Tony looked up at her suspiciously. What was up with her being nice?

"Agent DiNozzo?" said a voice to his left, and Tony turned to see Corpsman Jones squatting next to him. "I'm sorry, I was only trying to help."

Tony shrugged with a grin. "Hey, you just brought about a reunion I would have been working on myself if I'd had any grasp of the situation."

"What?"

"Colonel Mann is Gibbs' girlfriend," Tony said. "You didn't know?"

Jones blinked at him. "She's what?"

"Haven't seen each other for like six weeks, so I gotta thank you on that." Jones just stared at him for a moment, and Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, and for future reference, you might want to be careful how you talk around 'our rape victims.' We tend to be a little sensitive."

"I'm sorry!" Jones said. "I didn't – I wasn't –"

"Just remember it," Tony said, and he pushed Jones gently. He appeared to have crappy balance, though, because he fell backwards and had to catch himself by standing up. "Go on, get back to work," Tony said with a flip of his hand. As the corpsman backed away, Tony gave him a little wave.

"What did he want?" Gibbs asked, walking up.

"He apologized for being a jackass," Tony said. "I've signed the AMA papers so Dr. Branchard's ass is covered. Can we go now?"

"Sure, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, appropriating the wheelchair's handles and pushing it along. Tony rested his head back and watched the world go by.

* * *

Gibbs felt DiNozzo's head come to rest against his gut. He was pretty sure DiNozzo would sleep really well on the plane. All in all, he was proud of his team's work today. He just wished he could be prouder of himself. Holly was waiting outside the front entrance in a red SUV. DiNozzo got himself into the rearmost seat, putting both his feet up. Gibbs folded up the chair and put it in the back compartment, and DiNozzo looked over the seat with some surprise.

"Boss, that's the hospital's wheelchair."

"I know."

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to take it."

"Colonel Mann will bring it back," Gibbs replied.

"But . . . Boss, I don't need a wheelchair."

"I don't know how close we're going to be able to get to the plane, DiNozzo, and you're not walking further than five feet if I can help it. Got it?"

"Boss, I –" Gibbs shook his head and DiNozzo broke off, sighing. Gibbs slammed the rear doors and took the shotgun seat. The drive to the airstrip wasn't long, and they got there with time to spare. Gibbs got out and wrangled DiNozzo into the chair, then left him to Ziva's tender mercies. McGee looked like he was about ready to fall asleep on his feet, but even so, he looked better than DiNozzo.

He saw DiNozzo beckon Ziva down to his level and speak to her, then Ziva nodded. She hurried off towards one of the buildings, and Gibbs wondered what she was doing. McGee walked over to stand beside Tony's chair, resting a hand on the one of the handles. Gibbs went back and climbed into the shotgun seat again. "Wish it could have been under different circumstances, but it sure is good to see you, Holly."

She chuckled and, leaning over, gave him a quick kiss. She didn't draw back as he'd expected, though. She kept her hand on his chin, keeping them looking closely into each other's eyes. "Look, Jethro, I know you take it very seriously when one of your team gets hurt. A good leader does, but you seem to be taking this very personally."

He shrugged, taking her hand so as to gently disengage from the intimate position. "I am. It's my fault." Not only had he failed to notice DiNozzo's problem, despite the many signs he could see looking back over the last four months, but even knowing that Harris was getting more and more unstable, he'd left his guard too low at the critical moment. DiNozzo would not be in that chair right now if Gibbs hadn't screwed the pooch. He shook his head at Holly's disbelieving expression. "The whole God damned thing is my fault."

"Forgive me, Jethro, but that sounds like ego talking," she said.

He turned back towards her, and their eyes met again. "He got the drop on me, Holly," he said, and her eyes widened. "He got me, he got my gun, and he used that to make DiNozzo drop his. It is my fault."

"Jethro!" she exclaimed, but he shook his head. She pursed her lips. "I'm back in DC on Friday."

"DiNozzo will be staying with me."

"Think he'll mind if I come over for dinner?"

Gibbs chuckled. "No, I don't think he'll mind." He got out of the SUV and walked over to DiNozzo. Holly followed.

DiNozzo looked up at her, then over at Gibbs. "So, is the lovely Colonel Mann coming on the plane with us?"

"She's got to stay here," Gibbs replied.

DiNozzo nodded sagely, and Gibbs found himself wondering just what the hell Branchard had given him. Looking up at Holly, DiNozzo said, "Well, it's been a delight seeing you again, Colonel Mann." He paused, blinking. "Do you ever find it odd being a woman named Mann?" he asked.

"Occasionally," Holly said, her voice rich with amusement.

"Kind of ironic, for such a beautiful woman, but I have to say you . . . you rock."

"I rock?" She repeated, glancing at Gibbs. He wondered if he should stop DiNozzo, but he found himself curious to see where he would take this.

"Sure," DiNozzo said. Gibbs noticed McGee looking alarmed and suppressed a laugh. "I mean, you're scary . . . almost as scary as Gibbs, but that doesn't stop you from being drop dead gorgeous and totally feminine. All that power in simply incredible packaging. It's kind of a turn on."

"Tony!" McGee said in a strangled voice. "What are you doing?"

"Giving Colonel Mann a compliment," Tony replied matter-of-factly.

"Quite a nice compliment, actually," she said, her voice rich with smothered laughter. "Take care of yourself, Agent DiNozzo."

"Call me Tony," DiNozzo said, and she smiled.

"Take care of yourself, Tony," she amended. Her cell phone chirped and she looked at the screen to see what it was. "I'm sorry, I'd better go. I'll send someone for the wheelchair, Jethro."

He walked her back to the car. "See you Friday. Do you need a lift from the airport?"

"No, I'm not sure which flight I'll be taking, so don't worry. I'll get there." He nodded. "You sure he'll still be glad to see me?"

Gibbs did laugh then. "Not altogether, but he'll survive."

"Take care of yourself, Jethro," she said.

"You, too, Holly," he replied. Both of them were too aware of the public location and her uniform to make a proper farewell, but Gibbs was reasonably sure it was understood. She certainly looked at him warmly enough as she started her engine. He watched her drive off, then turned to find that Ziva was presenting him with a very large cup of coffee. It smelled great.

"I believe our plane is ready for us to board if we wish it," she said.

"I see." He accepted the coffee and took a large sip. "Let's go, then." He returned to the wheelchair and handed DiNozzo his coffee. "Which way, Ziva?"

"I can push him," she said.

"I know." He looked at her. "Which way?" She led off and they followed her. They got DiNozzo settled, and he was asleep almost as soon as he was belted in. Gibbs sat down across the aisle from him, and McGee hovered uneasily between them. "Yes, McGee?" he asked.

"You know that was . . . that was the drugs talking. He'd never have said any of that if he hadn't been doped up."

Gibbs grinned and reached over to pat McGee gently on the back. "Go get some sleep, Tim," he said, and McGee's expression relaxed.

"Yes, Boss," he said, and he took a seat several rows forward of DiNozzo. Ziva sat down in the row in front of Gibbs. Over the next several minutes, she spent more of her time looking at DiNozzo than not.

"He's not going to vanish while you're not looking, David," Gibbs said softly, and Ziva turned towards him in surprise. "You haven't gotten any sleep either, and as the only member of the team who hasn't been injured in the last forty-eight hours, you're going to need it."

She sank down below the seat and Gibbs leaned his head back. "McGee?" he said.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Did you let the director know when we'd be back?"

"I sent her, Abby and Ducky an e-mail with our flight plans," McGee said.

"Good."

Silence fell in the cabin. Gibbs closed his eyes.

* * *

Lt. Drummond walked into the cabin to let the passengers know they were taking off, but she stopped before she said anything, glancing from one to another in mute astonishment. Very quietly she returned to the cockpit. "I think they're fine, sir. We can go."

"What do you mean, you think they're fine, lieutenant?" Major Tran asked.

"They're all asleep, sir," she said, settling into her station.

Major Tran snorted and finished his chatter with the tower before taxiing into place for take off.


	16. Chapter 16

Gibbs sat up sharply, uncertain what had woken him. They were still in the air, Ziva was asleep in the row in front of him, McGee was leaning against the wall beside his seat, and DiNozzo was curled up in a ball in the corner of his row of seats. He seemed to be shivering.

Gibbs got up and found a compartment with blankets in it. He walked over and tucked a couple around DiNozzo. He wasn't sure if the shivering had a physical cause or if it had more to do with a dream, but the blankets couldn't hurt. Then he sat down beside DiNozzo and put a hand on his arm, gently rubbing up and down. He'd rubbed Kelly's back when she'd had nightmares, but he couldn't reach DiNozzo's back.

Abruptly, DiNozzo shifted, and Gibbs found himself with a lapful of senior field agent. Tony hadn't woken, but he'd instinctively moved closer to the source of comfort. Gibbs retucked the blankets and hoped Tony would awaken before the others. Otherwise he might just die of embarrassment.

* * *

Tony felt two thumps followed a second or two later by a third. He pushed himself upright, only then realizing that he'd been lying across Gibbs' lap. "Boss, I'm sorry," he said, sitting up. A lot of things came rushing back, things he'd said and done, and he felt his face heat from utter humiliation. "Oh God, Boss, I'm really sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, DiNozzo, but you might want to be quiet. McGee and Ziva are sleeping."

"Not anymore," McGee said hoarsely. "Did we just land?"

Given the amount they were slowing down, Tony definitely hoped so, but he didn't feel quite up to his usual level of sarcasm.

"If we did not, then the plane is about to crash," Ziva said sourly.

Tony shifted upright and realized that he really needed the little boy's room. "Are we being met?" he asked.

"Yes," Gibbs said.

Tony gave that some thought. "I need to use the head," he said, and then his whole body tensed as he remembered being backed into a corner, his arms bound behind him, with Brody leaning close and holding him by the jaw. A wave of helpless fury swept through him, a disconnected emotion that nevertheless shook him to the core. His gut roiling, he shoved past Gibbs and took off towards the toilet at the back of the plane. Only his hands on the seat backs kept him upright because his feet were screaming.

* * *

When Tony leapt up, Gibbs followed him immediately. He didn't really know what the cause of the sudden reaction was, but it didn't matter. Tony flung the door to the on board facilities open. It hit the wall and slammed shut behind him. "DiNozzo!" Gibbs called through the panel, and he heard the sounds of retching inside. Gibbs yanked the door open and stepped up behind DiNozzo where he was kneeling in front of the toilet.

McGee and Ziva came up behind him, but he shook his head, waving them away. He went down on one knee behind DiNozzo as the younger man collapsed, sobbing, against the panel in front of the sink. Gibbs pulled DiNozzo into his arms. "It's okay," he murmured. For a moment, DiNozzo resisted, but then he clung to him, burying his face in Gibbs' chest.

Gibbs realized that they had taxied to a stop and he looked up to see Ziva speaking to a crew member. McGee was nowhere to be seen, but the hatch was open and the steps were down, so presumably he had gone out to inform their greeters that they were a little delayed.

* * *

Lt. Drummond shook her head. "We have a schedule," she said in a low voice to the woman who had stopped her when she'd started back towards the head to encourage the passengers to leave. Officer David, she thought the name was. Lt. Drummond could see legs sticking out of the head, the door wide open, and she didn't really understand what was happening. She knew one of them had been tortured, that they were taking him back to the hospital as soon as they landed, but she couldn't figure out what was keeping them.

"There is an unavoidable delay," Officer David said didactically. Her partner, the one with the injured ribs, had gotten off the plane as soon as Drummond had opened the hatch, but David wouldn't let her past.

"What's going on?" Drummond asked, but at that moment, the older man got the torture victim out of the head. The younger man seemed nearly hysterical, and Drummond could see that David itched to go help her colleague, but something was holding her back. "Look, this really isn't the place for –"

"For what?" David demanded in a quiet voice. "Would you have us drag him out onto the tarmac in this condition?"

Lt. Drummond shook her head. "Of course not." She made her way forward to where Major Tran and Captain Timmons were waiting.

"What's the hold up?"

"Agent DiNozzo is . . ." She wasn't sure how to phrase it.

Major Tran leaned over to peer out into the passenger compartment. He looked for maybe a second, then sat back and called the tower. "We're having a small problem with one of our instruments here," he said. "Give us ten minutes or so to figure out what's up."

The tower accepted the delay, and Timmons looked at Major Tran. "What is it?" he asked.

"PTSD is my guess," Tran said. "Let's give him a little time to pull himself together."

Timmons whistled and nodded. "That sucks."

* * *

Abby was bouncing on the balls of her feet as the plane taxied along the runway outside the terminal they were waiting in. They had only been waiting for fifteen minutes because the director had refused to leave any earlier, but Abby had been desperate to see Tony since she'd gotten the call from Tim fourteen hours and nineteen minutes ago. First he was being stalked, then he was maybe being raped, then he was kidnapped and definitely being raped, and now he was safe in a plane a hundred feet from them, and she still couldn't see him.

She lost patience and opened the door, hurrying out to greet them on the tarmac.

"Abby!" the director called, following her, but Abby just strode across as the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the steps came down, and Abby stopped about ten feet from the bottom, bouncing again because keeping still was not possible when she was this agitated.

"The doctors say Tony is fine, my dear Abigail," Ducky said, coming up beside her. "Calm yourself."

"Fine?" Abby exclaimed. "How can he be fine? That's crazy talk, Ducky!"

"I meant that the doctors didn't find anything seriously wrong with him," Ducky said. "Physically, he should recover in –"

"Physically? He'll recover _physically_?"

"Yes, Abby," Ducky said. "I –"

"What about mentally? Do you mean that he won't recover mentally? Because you specified physically, and when you specify, you exclude, and if you excluded mentally, does that mean you don't think he will recover mentally? Or –"

"I am confident that he will recover in all ways!" Ducky said emphatically.

"Agent McGee," the director said, and Abby turned to find that McGee had come down out of the plane. She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him. He let out a cry of pain, and Abby let go of him immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking him up and down. He was clutching his ribs with a grimace, and she couldn't believe he was hurt and she didn't know it. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

He nodded. "I got shot, Abby," he said in an impatient voice. "It –"

"You got shot!" Abby exclaimed. "Why didn't I know you got shot? Ducky, look at him. If he –"

"I'm fine," McGee said. "The vest took it. It's just bruised, but your hugs can be kind of . . . enthusiastic."

"I hurt you?" She bit her lip. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But you got shot and no one told me."

"I didn't know that," McGee said. "And it could have been worse."

"How could it have been worse, McGee?" she demanded. "You got shot!"

"He was aiming for Tony, and Tony wasn't wearing a vest."

Abby stared at him in shock. A strangled squeak was all that escaped her frozen throat for a second, then she threw her arms around him – more gently this time. "You saved Tony!"

"We all saved Tony," McGee said. "Dir –"

Abby realized something suddenly. Only McGee had come off the plane. "Where is Tony?" she asked.

"He's in the bathroom," McGee said. "Gibbs is waiting for him to help him walk. Did you guys bring the wheelchair I asked for?"

"Oh, right," Ducky said. "I left it inside. I'll just –"

"Actually, could you go on the plane?" McGee asked. "Gibbs has a question for you – about Tony."

"Is he okay?" Abby asked.

"He's okay. Ducky, could I . . ." McGee drew Ducky off, and Abby started to follow them but the director put a hand on her arm.

"I think Ziva has the evidence," she said, and Abby looked up to find Ziva coming towards them with a tub of stuff. Abby hurried forward, took the tub, shoved it into the director's arms and hugged Ziva.

"What is this for?" Ziva asked.

Abby drew back. "You saved Tony. Not as directly as McGee did, but you did save him."

Ziva nodded slowly. "Yes . . ."

Abby hugged her again. "How is Tony?" she asked. "Why hasn't he come off yet? How long does it take to go to the bathroom?"

Ziva shrugged. "He is upset," she said.

"Of course he's upset, but McGee said he was in the bathroom. Isn't he coming out?"

"He will," Ziva said. "But you and I should get this evidence to your lab."

"I want to see Tony," Abby protested.

Ziva took Abby by the shoulders. "Tony is very upset. Ducky is going to have to sedate him. Do you think Tony would like you to see him that way?"

Abby deflated. No, Tony wouldn't want her to see him like that, and if Gibbs was with him . . . he should be okay. "Um . . . okay," she said. She dug in the tote she had over her shoulder and pulled out Bert the Hippo. "Here, give this to Tony."

Ziva took the stuffed creature dubiously. "I will give it to Gibbs, and then you and I will go back to the office." She hurried back onto the plane.

"Well, aren't you going to go see him?" Abby asked the director dispiritedly. "I guess it doesn't matter if he wants you to see him or not."

Director Shepard looked briefly taken aback, but then she shook her head. "I'm afraid it doesn't, Abby. I have to check on him." With that she handed the tub of evidence back to Abby and walked towards the plane. Abby watched her go, very downcast.

* * *

Gibbs looked up when the daylight from the hatch was blocked and gave Ducky a quick, curt nod as he entered. Ducky paused upon seeing DiNozzo, still tucked against Gibbs' chest in a near fetal ball, and the medical examiner's eyes widened. Gibbs was glad to see he had his medical kit in one hand. "Hey Duck," he said softly. "Who all is here?"

"The director and Abby," Ducky said, walking over to kneel behind DiNozzo.

Gibbs turned to Ziva and beckoned her over with his head. She bent down and he spoke into her ear as quietly as he could. "Get out there and get Abby and McGee back to the office." Two of them in hysterics he did not need, and he thought he could count on Tim and Ziva to keep Abby on an even keel. Ziva nodded, and as she started to move away, he added, "Don't let McGee lift anything."

Ziva nodded again and, taking up the evidence tub, she left the plane. "What happened, Jethro?" Ducky asked.

"I'm not altogether sure, but we can look into that later. We need to get him off this plane, and he is not moving."

"Of course," Ducky said, and he glanced towards the cockpit. "The flight crew?"

"Behaving with admirable circumspection," Gibbs said. "But they undoubtedly have a schedule we're causing problems with."

"Naturally," Ducky said. He put a hand on Tony's back. "Now, Anthony, let's see what we can do for you." At the touch, Tony burrowed deeper, continuing to tremble. The sobbing had died down, but he was still thoroughly out of it. Ducky opened his bag and began to sort through its contents. Ziva came back on the plane holding Abby's stuffed hippo, and Gibbs blinked at it when she held it out with a helpless shrug. Gibbs freed a hand and took the thing by the leg, putting it on the floor next to Tony. "Ziva, my dear, would you bring us one of those blankets and a water bottle?" Ducky asked. She brought the items over and then, gathering their things, left the plane. Gibbs helped Ducky get Tony wrapped up and then Ducky pulled out a bottle of pills. "It would probably be better if I could inject it, faster certainly, but I don't have anything like that with me, I'm afraid."

"Whatever you can do, Ducky," Gibbs said.

"What happened?" Jenny asked, and Gibbs looked up in surprise. She must have come on at the same moment Ziva left, he thought, for him not to have noticed her approach.

"Not sure," Gibbs mouthed at her, then he gestured peremptorily towards the door with his head. She was the last person Tony needed right now. It was her job to check on her subordinates, but she'd checked. She should trust that he and Ducky could manage DiNozzo and just get the hell out.

Jenny's lips pursed, and he could see her contemplating a number of things she'd like to say, but her eyes fell on DiNozzo and softened. She nodded. "I'll see you later, at the hospital," she mouthed at him, and he nodded, returning his attention to his still shivering agent. The light was occluded briefly, then she was gone.

Ducky stroked Tony's back gently with the back of the hand holding the open water bottle. "Anthony, dear boy, I've got something I need you to do for me."

Gibbs looked down at the top of Tony's head. "Tony, you hear that? You can do something for Ducky, right?" After a moment, Tony nodded, two short jerky movements. Gibbs wished he could haul Brody up from the bottom of the ocean and kill him again. "All right. If you can just sit up?"

Very slowly, Gibbs managed to coax Tony to a sitting position. His eyes were red from tears that hadn't yet stopped, and his breathing was still rough. He reached out a shaking hand and took the pill Ducky proffered, managing to get it into his mouth without dropping it. Ducky helped him take a couple of swallows from the water bottle and then sat back.

"There," Ducky said. "You'll start feeling better shortly. In the meantime . . . is there anything we need to get from the cargo bins?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Ziva got it all, I think. How completely will this knock him out?"

"Fairly, I'm afraid. I could wish you hadn't sent Ziva away, though I understand why you did."

"Maybe you could get one of the pilots into help me get him to the wheelchair when the time comes," Gibbs suggested, and, nodding, Ducky took up the mission.

Tony's breathing gradually evened out, and he began to relax against Gibbs rather than clinging. Ducky returned with an Asian pilot wearing major's clusters and bent to check DiNozzo's pulse and breathing. "Very well, I think it's time to get him up. It would be better overall if you could carry him given the condition of his feet."

Between them, Gibbs and the Air Force major got Tony up, but it became clear rapidly that he was too limp to be guided. The major gently heaved Tony over his shoulder into a fireman's carry, and Gibbs kept a hand on his head to make certain it didn't bump anything as they took him down out of the plane. Ducky held the chair steady while Gibbs helped the major lower Tony into it. It had belts, so they secured him against the back so he wouldn't fall, then Gibbs turned to the pilot. "Thank you, Major Tran," he said, holding out his hand to shake and squinting at the name strip.

"Anytime, sir," Major Tran said. "I hope he's feeling more himself soon."

Gibbs turned back towards Ducky. "Did you drive separately from the others?" he asked, suddenly thinking that the Morgan might not be the best vehicle to get Tony to the hospital in.

"The director kindly offered to give Abigail a ride, so I suggested that I would borrow one of the agency cars to catch the overflow, so to speak. Between the three of us and the four of you, it would have been a tight squeeze in most any vehicle."

Gibbs took over control of the chair, positioning Tony so that his upper body leaned against him. "Lead on, Duck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! I'm very excited!
> 
> This is going to sound immensely stupid, but I only just realized that this story includes folks from all five branches of the US Military: Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force _and_ Coast Guard! Yay! That was not actually thought out or planned, it just happened. Admittedly, all the Marines we have or will encounter are retired, unlike the members of the other branches, but Gibbs is so very **Marine** that it emanates from him in an waves, and he's always there, so I think that matches the active duty personnel. LOL.
> 
> [Edit: QueenoftheDeer pointed out that this is Memorial Day, and I hadn't even thought of it. (Eideann = goober.) So, yay our folks who are serving and who have served. I couldn't love you more if you were family. My dad served in the USAF for 23 years, and he was the most amazing man who ever lived. In a way, my mother served most of those years, too, because spouses provide support, suffer fear and loss, and get to, in her case, spend lots of time raising kids solo.]
> 
> Now that I'm done being a goober for y'all, I just want you to know that we are nowhere near done. For one thing, there's still a case that hasn't been resolved. *Attempts mysterious look, but only succeeds in looking more like a goober.*


	17. Chapter 17

The trip to the hospital was irritating from a traffic sense, but other than that it was peaceful.  Tony slept through it.  Checking him in took relatively little time.  Between Ducky’s presence and the records Dr. Branchard had given them, they could answer most of the questions Bethesda’s staff asked without too much difficulty.  Gibbs settled down in the chair next to the bed and rested his aching head against the wall.  He’d told Ducky and Jenny that he wasn’t suffering any ill effects from the blow Harris had dealt him, and while that was true in the main, he’d been very active on relatively little sleep in the last fifty or so hours.

“Are you ready for a proper exam now, Jethro?” Ducky asked.  “Young Anthony is safe and sleeping peacefully, you show no signs of rushing back to the office, and I am here.  Conditions seem ideal.”

“Ducky, I’m fine,” Gibbs said.

“Forgive me, Jethro, but I’m not blind and I’m not the kind of subordinate who is too afraid to tell you when you look like you’re going to collapse.  I fear even our director falls into that category from time to time, despite her exalted rank.”

Gibbs opened his eyes.  “What do you want to do, Duck?  Keep in mind that I’m not leaving this room.”

“You can leave, Jethro,” said Jenny’s voice from the doorway.  “I’ll stay with him.”

Gibbs looked up at her for a long moment.  Long years of practice kept his doubt out of his eyes, but he rose after a few moments and put the stuffed hippo on the bed with DiNozzo.  “Thirty minutes, tops,” he said to Ducky, but before he left something occurred to him.  “Jenny?”

“Yes?”

“Did they find him?”

She shook her head.  “The consensus is that his body was lost to the current.  Go with Ducky.  I’ll fill you in when you get back.”

He grimaced but he went.  Ducky actually insisted on an x-ray, though Gibbs supposed he could understand the paranoia after Gabe Maitland’s injury.  Of course, if there was nothing that could be done, he wasn’t sure wanted to know.  After nearly forty minutes, Ducky said, “You seem to be just fine, Jethro, but I think you should take a few days off.”

“I might just take you up on that, Ducky,” Gibbs said.

Ducky paused in his writing and looked up.  “Did I hear you right?  You’re actually going to take time off?”

Gibbs nodded.  “For DiNozzo.”  He stood up and headed towards the door.  “I told you I was fine.”

“You needn’t be so smug, Jethro,” Ducky called as Gibbs strode away.

He reached DiNozzo’s room quickly and found Jenny sitting calmly at the table under the window, working.  DiNozzo was still out.  Gibbs walked over and sat down.  “You were going to fill me in?” he asked.

She nodded and pulled her papers back into a neat pile in a file folder, then closed it.  “The _Isabel Damita_ is in port in San Juan, and we now know why Captain Magaña was so reluctant to allow you to board.”

“He explain?”

“No, he’s dead.  Apparently Detective Harris didn’t appreciate his hands on behavior with DiNozzo and broke his neck.”

“No, that was me,” said a weak voice from the bed.  Both Jenny and Gibbs turned to see DiNozzo looking at them and blinking.  “Ducky drugged me, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, getting up and walking over to the bed.  “Otherwise we’d still be on that plane.”

“Right.”  Tony looked up at the ceiling.  “Sorry Boss.”

“What happened?” Jenny asked, and Gibbs wanted to strangle her.

DiNozzo reached out and grabbed the remote that controlled the bed.  He raised the head up and smiled at the director.  “What happened when?”

Gibbs gave Jenny an irritated look that she didn’t seem to see.  “Why did you become so upset on the plane?”

DiNozzo shrugged.  “I don’t remember.  How long do I have to stay for, Boss?  Because I’m getting hungry.”

“Abby’s bringing pizza later.”

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” DiNozzo asked.  “It’ll make the other patients jealous.  Besides, it would be hotter if we just went to the –”

“You’re not going anywhere, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said dryly.

Tony sighed and rested his head against the pillow.  “Why did I know you were going to say that?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe you’re psychic.”

“Or maybe he just knows you, Jethro,” Jenny said.

“So, what was on the ship?” DiNozzo asked.  “I wondered about that.”

“Weapons grade explosives.”

DiNozzo sat up sharply and stared at her.  “You’re kidding!  God, I hope they weren’t in the boxes they hid us behind.”

Jenny shook her head.  “No, those boxes were filled with smuggled blue jeans,” she said with a smile.

DiNozzo sagged back against the bed, an odd smile on his face.  “Well, I guess those might have stopped a bullet or two,” he said.  The smile faded.  “Explosives, though?  No wonder.”  Gibbs wondered what Tony was thinking.

Jenny nodded.  “Serial numbers on the packaging indicate that at least some of it was supposedly destroyed at Camp LeJeune five years ago.  They’re taking photos and samples to send to Abby so we can look into what really happened.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  If she was going to try and pull him in on this he was going to have words with her.  Clearing his throat, he said, “Ducky recommended I take a few days off, and I think I’ll listen to him for once.”  Jenny blinked at him, an odd look on her face.  She opened her mouth to speak, but Tony beat her to it.

“But you never take sick time!” DiNozzo protested.

Jenny met Gibbs’ eyes frankly.  “I’m putting Lafferty’s team on it,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it had been what she intended all along.  “Moore is an expert on explosives, and they’re free and at full strength at the moment.”

Gibbs nodded slowly.  “Makes sense.”

“But you never take sick time, Boss!”

Gibbs snorted and looked at DiNozzo.  “Then I should have plenty accrued,” he said.  DiNozzo was looking at him with a perplexed expression, and Gibbs could almost hear the questions he wanted to ask.  However, he could also practically sense DiNozzo’s awareness of Jenny.  The wall was up and holding back all emotion and information that might elicit emotion.  Gibbs knew that DiNozzo didn’t want to seem weak in any way in front of the director.  There were times for stoicism and putting emotion into boxes to be dealt with later.  This was not one of them.  He pursed his lips.  “Director, can I talk to you outside?”

She gave him a puzzled look, but followed him out of the room.  He pulled the door shut behind him and turned towards her.  “What is it, Jethro?” she asked.

“I need to get information from DiNozzo about what happened on that boat, and what happened over the last four months.”

“I know,” Jenny said, knitting her brows, clearly not sure why he’d brought her outside to state the obvious.  “Even if there were no other reason, DC Metro is demanding to know what happened to their officer.  We need a thorough investigation.  In fact, Fornell should probably be here.”

Gibbs nodded.  “That’s a point, and I think he might be persuaded to talk in front of Fornell.”

“I can hear a ‘but,’ Jethro,” Jenny said.  “What is it?”

“There’s no way in hell he’ll talk frankly with you there,” Gibbs said quietly.  “He’s going to play it as light and normal as he can and avoid any and all details.”

“Jethro, I need to know what happened.”

“And you will.  As soon as I find out.”

Her eyes narrowed, then she sighed.  “All right, but you call Fornell and get him over here before you get started.”  Gibbs nodded acquiescence.  Seeming satisfied, Jenny went back into the room and walked up to DiNozzo.  “I’ve got some bad news, Tony,” she said.  His eyes widened, and Gibbs wondered where she was going with this.  “They aren’t prepared to release your clothing just yet.”

Tony’s expression cleared.  “Oh, is that all?”  She nodded.  “They can keep it,” he said.  “All of it.  I never want to see any of it again.”  His eyes started to get a little wild.  “And I can promise you, there will be no ties in my future for a while.  Not even for court.”

Gibbs kept his reaction as low key as possible under the circumstances.  Designer suit Tony refusing to wear ties was a new one on him, and he could see that Jenny recognized the unexpectedness of the statement.  Then he remembered something Abby had said while they went through DiNozzo’s apartment. “What about the brief kit your grandmother gave you?” he asked neutrally,

“Oh – that I want,” Tony said.  “But nothing else.  Sell it, give it away, burn it, I don’t care.”

Jenny gave Gibbs a worried look, but she nodded.  “I’ll take care of it,” she said.  “And I’ll see you later.”

Gibbs saw her out.  With the door closed, he said, “You might want to hold onto that stuff for a –”

“I already figured we’d better give him some time to change his mind,” she said.  “His wardrobe would not be easy to replace.”

“Unless he decided to shop at Sears,” Gibbs said with a shrug.

Jenny rolled her eyes.  “Call Fornell, Jethro, or would you rather I did, so you can get back to Tony?”

“You call him,” Gibbs said.

* * *

Gibbs and Jenny were discussing him again.  He wasn’t sure, but he thought he remembered Jenny coming onto the plane during his meltdown, which was just a thrilling thought.  He looked out the window and contemplated the space.  It was odd how they carefully ran a curtain all the way around a bed in a room that was designed for only one occupant.  He supposed that guests could thus be excluded from the treatment process without being kicked out, but it still seemed a little odd.

The door opened again, and he could tell by the length of time the door remained open and the sound of the footsteps on the linoleum floor that Gibbs was alone.  So, the bossman had kicked Jenny out.  That worked for him.  He always half-expected her to jump in with questions about things he didn’t want to answer whenever she perceived him as weak.  It was probably unfair, but he couldn’t help it.

Gibbs walked over to the window and looked out, arms crossed, his back to Tony.  “How’d I rate a single?” Tony asked.

“Luck of the draw,” Gibbs replied.

Tony grimaced.  More likely Gibbs had requested it so that any further meltdowns could be kept as private as possible.  Not that Tony objected, it was just embarrassing that such precautions were necessary.

“Have I been examined by the doctors here?” Tony asked.

“They looked at you,” Gibbs said, turning around.

Tony grimaced.  The idea of being examined while he was unconscious was unappealing, but he’d just as soon avoid being aware of any more anal exams.  With Gibbs and Ducky around, he knew he could count on any exams being safe and benign.  “So, that little demonstration you gave me a couple years go proved useful.  I had no idea just how easy it was, though.”

Gibbs gave him a rueful grin.  “I didn’t think my demonstration was enough to teach you how, DiNozzo.”

“Necessity is the mother of getting it quickly,” Tony said.  “I didn’t figure that either you or the Coasties would be shooting without any warning at all, and I really didn’t want to go wherever Brody was going.  He seemed to think he had a way out.”

“And given the way out he chose for you –” Gibbs started, but Tony shuddered and he broke off.

“Yeah, that was bad,” Tony said, remembering the look in Brody’s eyes and the view down the barrel of the gun.  “I wonder if he would have killed himself after.”  He shook his head.  Not something he wanted to think about too closely.  “Then McGee goes and scares me half to death.”

Gibbs walked over and sat down.  “Well, I couldn’t see you when he shot, either you or McGee.  All I knew was that he shot first.”  Tony looked at Gibbs, a little startled by his tone.  “Then I got down to the deck and there were the two of you, not moving.  For a second I thought he’d got you both.”

Tony resisted the urge to ask if he would have cared.  The expression in his eyes, the tone of his voice, both told him the answer, and he didn’t think it was just for McGee.  He knew he asked for validation way too often, even when he was doing it, he usually knew.  He just didn’t know how to stop.  “He’s dead, though?”

“Body lost at sea,” Gibbs said.

“So, presumed dead,” Tony replied.  “I think . . .”  He took a deep breath.  “I think I might be able to live with that.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

The door opened and a nurse came in.  She checked Tony’s vitals, asked him a few exceptionally personal questions, then bustled back out.  A moment later the door opened again, and Tony wondered what she’d forgotten.  Then he saw who’d come in.  Fornell and Sacks.  The look on Sacks’ face made Tony want to hide under the covers, but he just grinned up at the pair of them.  It wasn’t as if he could hide much in a hospital gown.  At least the covers were up.  He drew on his reserves of sarcasm.  “Well, if it isn’t the FBI’s daring duo of derring do!” he exclaimed cheerily.  “What brings you here?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Fornell asked, looking over at Gibbs.

“Not yet, Tobias,” Gibbs said with a grimace.

Tony looked back and forth between them, and then he noticed the file in Sacks’ hands.  “They’re . . . they’re not investigating, are they?” he asked.  “Boss, tell me this hasn’t gone official!”

“You were missing for thirty-six hours, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said incredulously.  “The Coast Guard boarded a foreign civilian cargo vessel and shots were fired.  Yes, it’s gone official.”

“Not to mention the fact that Gibbs was unconscious for about forty to fifty minutes,” Fornell added, and Tony looked sharply at Gibbs.  “Have you gotten that looked at yet, Gibbs?”

“I have, and I’m taking a couple of days off, per Ducky’s orders.”

“After going to Puerto Rico and participating in a hostile boarding party?” Fornell asked wryly.

Gibbs shrugged with a small grin.  “Better late than never, right, Tobias?”

“So, why are you here?” Tony asked uneasily.

Fornell shrugged.  “Investigation.  DC Metro’s hot on our asses to find out what exactly was going on, and while you’re not the only witness, you are the most important.”

“What do you mean, I’m not the only witness?” Tony asked.  “I mean, one or two people might have seen him bugging me in bars over the last couple of weeks, but –”

“Do you know Terrence Hamlin?”  Tony shook his head, mystified.  He glanced over at Gibbs, but he seemed to be as much in the dark as Tony felt.  “Mark Simons?  Michael Robison?”

“No, who are they?”

Fornell nodded to Sacks who held out the file to Tony.  “Tell us if you know any of the men in that file,” he said.

His stomach twisting with nerves, Tony opened the file and looked.  The first picture was like a blow to the gut.  The second wasn’t any better, and by the third Tony wanted to throw up.  “Why . . . how did you . . . what the hell?”

“You recognize them?” Fornell asked.

“They attacked me . . . last October.  It . . . Brody . . .”  Realization began to dawn and he looked up at Fornell, horrified.  “He didn’t.”

“He paid them each a hundred bucks to convince you that they were going to rape you,” Sacks said.  “And then he paid them each a hundred more because I guess he went overboard when he ‘stopped’ them.”

Tony stared down at the three faces in growing humiliation.  The whole relationship with Brody had started because he’d rescued him from these bastards.  If he’d paid them in the first place . . .

“He set you up, DiNozzo,” Fornell said, and the kind tone he said it in made Tony cringe.  “Hamlin said Harris told him he’d been trying to ‘get next to you’ for a couple of weeks and was getting tired of the slow, gentle approach.”

Given his bulk and general presence, Brody was a hard man to miss, and Tony did recall subtle approaches prior to the night when Brody had ‘saved’ him, approaches he hadn’t so much rejected as deflected.  They had only made him less surprised by the moves Brody had put on him after the ‘rescue.’  He started shaking as he realized that, in essence, that was the first night Brody had assaulted him.  After all, a man who pays for murder is tried for murder whether or not he’s in the room or across the country when the crime takes place.

He closed the file and pushed it away.  Someone took it, but he didn’t see who because he buried his face in his hands.  A couple of weeks.  How many did that mean Terrence Hamlin’s mind?  How long did it mean in actuality?  Brody might have over or understated it.  How long had Brody had him in his sights?

Not that the answers to those questions made much of a difference.  It hadn’t even been three days since Tony had told Gibbs that Brody wasn’t a rapist – based on the facts of that encounter.  There were no two ways of looking at it.  Tony was a fool and a dupe.

“Has he done this before?” he asked.

“Yes, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, and Tony looked up at him.  Sacks and Fornell were talking quietly by the door.  “No one’s ever reported it, but it was . . . observed.”

Tony blinked at him, not sure how to interpret those words.  “Observed?” he repeated.

“The CIA has been watching him for ten years,” Gibbs said.  “They . . .”  He paused as though debating how to put the next bad news.  Shrugging, he said, “They have a list.”

The tremors in Tony’s hands grew worse.  “And am I on it?” he asked after a moment.  Gibbs nodded.  “So the CIA knew what he was like, they knew what he would do, and they saw him approach me and did nothing.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

The door opened and Sacks left.  Tony brought his hands together and clasped them to try and conceal how badly they were shaking.  A moment later the door opened and a nurse came in with a tray of food.  Tony shook his head.  “I can’t eat that, and the smell of it will make me sick,” he said bluntly.

“You need to eat something, Mr. DiNozzo,” she said kindly.

He glanced over and looked at the tree beside the bed with its various bags and tubes.  “Is one of those a glucose drip?” he asked.

“It is,” she said.

“Then I’m not in danger of starving, and if that doesn’t leave the room pretty soon, I’m in danger of throwing up.”

She blinked at him.  “Do you need something for nausea?” she asked.

Tony closed his eyes.  “Sure, but . . . I’m really not sure . . . I can’t . . .”

“Gentlemen, maybe you should leave.”

“No!” Tony exclaimed, opening his eyes sharply.  The idea of Gibbs leaving at this moment made him ready to panic.  “Bring me something for nausea . . . um . . .”  He peered at her badge.

“My name’s Rachel,” she supplied.

“Rachel,” he said.  “Please, take that away and bring me something for nausea.  I’ll eat solid food later, I  promise.”

She smiled at him.  “Okay, Mr. DiNozzo.”

“And call me Tony.  Mr. DiNozzo is my father, and I don’t like him much.”  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t respond, merely taking the tray and leaving.

“Don’t like your dad, huh?” Fornell said.

“You investigated my entire life a year ago.  You didn’t pick up on that?”

“I noticed a lack of direct communication, but your stepmother calls you regularly.  It’s not uncommon for all the communication in a family to be facilitated by the mother.”

Tony snorted.  “Joyce likes me for whatever reason,” he said.  “And she thinks my father and I should know what’s going on in each other’s lives.  I tell her polite lies that keep my father off my back.  I can tell you, he didn’t hear anything about that investigation.”

Fornell snorted.  “Then it’s a good thing it didn’t go on any longer.  Sacks was preparing to fly up to Long Island.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment.  He was serious.  “Thanks for that,” he said.  “Another thing to add to my causes for nightmare.”  Rachel came back in with a nausea remedy, and Tony spent some energy charming her.  It was always good to keep the nurses happy.  She left chuckling, and Tony collapsed against the raised surface of the bed.  “So, you guys have questions, I assume.  Is Sacks coming back?”

“He’s outside to give us warning of casual visitors,” Fornell said.  “I told him to let the nurse in this time.  After this, he’ll let us know so you can have a little more privacy.”

“Do you have a tape recorder?” Tony asked, and Fornell nodded, pulling out a little handheld device.  “Then there’s no such thing as privacy, but I appreciate the effort.  Go ahead.”

“I thought we’d start at the beginning,” Fornell said, sitting down at the foot of the bed.  Gibbs sat next to Tony’s shoulder, but Tony got the distinct feeling that unless he objected to a question, Gibbs was going to let Fornell lead this interview.  “What happened that night, with Hamlin, Simons and Robison?”

Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Well, it’s like I . . . like I told Gibbs.  I was looking for something a little rough, no strings, just . . . just . . .”

“A buddy fuck?” Fornell suggested.

“There would have to be a buddy involved for that.  I didn’t want anything quite that . . . personal.”  He flushed.  “I know how that sounds, but I needed . . .”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, DiNozzo,” Fornell said, saying his name the way Tony said it for once.  “It’s not like there’s going to be a trial and a defense lawyer trying to get you to justify yourself.  Just tell me what happened.”

Tony hadn’t considered it in that light, but he still worried about how people like Fornell would see him after this story.  He shook his head.  “So, anyway, I actually hadn’t found what I was looking for.  I’m honestly not sure I would have, because I’m not sure I really knew what I wanted.”  He nodded towards the file in Fornell’s hands, and Fornell handed it back.  “I was at Joey’s, the bar off Dupont Circle.”  Fornell nodded.  “This one . . . Simons . . . he started hitting on me really hard.  I told him no, but he was pushy as all hell.  I decided to leave.  I wasn’t having any fun, and I had to work the next day.  It was a Thursday I think, and it was late.  Robison and Hamlin were waiting at the opening to the alley beside the bar.  There weren’t a lot of people on the street, you know how it is.”  Both Gibbs and Fornell nodded.  “So, they grabbed me and dragged me around behind a dumpster, where we couldn’t easily be seen, and Simons showed up a second later.”  Tony gulped.  These memories were coming harder after the last couple of days.  “They shoved me against the wall and started groping, and Simons undid my belt buckle and started to pull my pants down.  I fought, but there were three of them.”

“Right.  Then what?”

“Then Brody showed up.  He ran up with his piece out, yelled at them and drove them off.  He must have . . . I don’t know what their plan was, but they didn’t just scatter.  He chased Simons down and smashed him one, but they all got away anyhow.  I didn’t follow, I was too busy pulling my pants back up.”  Tony had closed the folder once he’d gotten the names attached to the faces.  He kept his eyes fixed on it, not wanting to see either man’s expression.  “I was . . . I was a little freaked.  He stayed with me while I pulled myself together and offered me a ride home.  It all seemed kind of . . . kind of nice at the time.  I said thanks, but I’d get myself home, but there weren’t any cabs right away.  He waited with me, and we talked.  We’d talked a little before, but I didn’t really know anything about him.  He told me he was a cop, I told him what I do, and after a few minutes it started to seem kind of stupid to say no.  His car wasn’t far away, he’d only been at the bar for like fifteen minutes, so he hadn’t had much to drink, so I let him drive me home.”

“Did you invite him in?”

“He got all solicitous and wanted to make sure I got to my door okay.  I was still a little in shock, I think.  I agreed.”

“In shock?” Gibbs repeated.  “How far did it go, DiNozzo?”

Tony blinked and looked up.  “Well, my pants and boxers were down, and there were hands in places, and Simons had his zipper down.  No . . .”  He closed his eyes.  “No penetration, just . . . fondling.”

“That’s more than Simons admitted to,” Fornell commented.  Tony shrugged, dropping his eyes to the folder again.  He felt incredibly stupid.  Fornell cleared his throat.  “Okay, then what?”

Tony took a deep breath.  “There wasn’t any parking . . . there wasn’t any parking on the street, there never is, but since my car was still in evidence after having exploded, thank you CIA, I suggested he park in my –”

“Wait, what’s this about exploding cars and the CIA?” Fornell asked, and Tony looked up, startled by his own indiscretion.

He glanced over at Gibbs.  “Sorry, Boss,” he said, and Gibbs shrugged.

“Need to know?” Fornell asked.

“Basic gist, DiNozzo was involved in a case that had a negative impact on a CIA operation,” Gibbs said, and Tony was impressed by how succinct the explanation was.  “Needless to say, Tony didn’t know about the CIA operation, but they took it very personally.”

Fornell was silent for a moment.  He seemed to be processing.  Finally, he said, “So, your car having . . . exploded, your parking space was empty.  Just out of curiosity, did you tell Brody that your car had exploded?”

“No, I told him I’d lent it to someone who’d had an accident, which had the virtue of being essentially true, although I’m not sure you can technically call C-4 an accident.”

“Depends on how you encounter it,” Fornell said.  “So then what?”

“So then he saw me to the door, and it seemed rude at that point not to invite him in.”  Tony shook his head.  “I was so stupid.  He manipulated everything.”

“You had no reason to think he was anything other than what he seemed to be, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.  “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Tony shrugged.  “We talked for a while, and we got along.  He commented on the wall of DVDs and I suggested he come back the next night for a movie.  He agreed, and we had pizza and beer the next night while we watched _The Untouchables_.  It led into . . . other things.”  He shook his head bitterly at the recollection.  “I had bruises on my arms and . . . and other places . . . and he talked about how angry he was at the guys who gave them to me.  If I’d known what he . . . I can’t believe I fell for any of it.”

“He probably was angry,” Fornell said, and Tony saw Gibbs raise a hand out of the corner of his eye.  Fornell didn’t pay any attention to the warning gesture, however.  “If he’d already targeted you, he probably didn’t want anyone else touching you.”

Tony shivered.  “I . . .”  He shook his head.  “I told him up front that I was not looking for a long term relationship, that I didn’t want anything that could really be called a ‘relationship’ at all.  Just meaningless sex.  Nothing that looked like dates, no romantic gestures, just two guys being friends and helping each other relax.  I don’t . . .”  He blinked, an idea sneaking into his brain.  “I didn’t do anything, did I?  He never wanted that, he was never going to settle for that.”

Gibbs nodded and leaned towards him.  “He would have agreed to anything to get you where he wanted you, Tony,” he said.

Tony shook his head, his gut roiling.  “Why me?  I mean, I know he couldn’t have kidnapped anyone else, but were any of his other relationships like this?”

“I don’t know, Tony, but –” Gibbs started, but Fornell broke in.

“I do,” he said, and Gibbs sat back, looking startled.  “You gave me the names from that report, Gibbs.  I looked into some of them.  Just from the ones I’ve talked to, there was a clear escalation, and he never obsessed on anyone quite the way he did on you, DiNozzo.”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest.  He needed not to think about that information.  “I . . . the second time we did it, he asked me for . . . he wanted a blow job, but I didn’t . . . I’ve . . .”  He covered his mouth with his hands and strove to control himself.  “I said no,” he said finally.  “He got annoyed, but he got over it pretty quick.  I told him it was never going to happen, and he seemed to accept it.”

“Seemed?” Gibbs repeated.

“He never asked again,” Tony said.  “Never even mentioned it until we were on the boat.  And then it was different.”  All three men were silent for a moment, and Tony finally cleared his throat.  “He wasn’t familiar with naval terminology,” he said.  Both Gibbs and Fornell looked at him like they weren’t sure what the relevance was.  “I kind of bounce back and forth, and when talking to people from outside the office I typically talk about the bathroom or the restroom, but when I’m on a boat . . .”

“The head,” Gibbs said as if realization had struck him.

Tony nodded.  “I guess it reminded him.  He was about to force my mouth open when _el capitán_ came in and dragged us out.  I could have kissed him, even after he had someone shove a gun under my chin.  It was close.”

“You would rather have been shot than –”

Tony cut Fornell off before he could say it.  “Not that, exactly,” he said.  “Just, if _el capitán_ hadn’t come in at that moment, there wouldn’t have been a rescue, and I’d still be on that boat with a man who thought of me as a giant-sized blow up doll that fought back.”  He shuddered and took a swallow of cold water, hoping that would chase the bile that was hovering in his throat back down to his stomach where it belonged.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Neither Gibbs nor Fornell spoke for a moment, then Fornell said, "So, after that first night, how often did you see Harris?"

Tony took another sip of water to see if it would work any more effectively than the first had, then shrugged. "Once or twice a week. It was very much his decision. I . . . he'd leave a note in my mailbox, or once I leased the Audi, under my windshield wiper. Mostly it was Friday nights."

"How did he wind up with a key, DiNozzo?"

"On a Friday night when we were supposed to be getting together, I came home really late. We'd caught a case late in the day, and you hadn't let us go until nearly ten. When I got to the apartment, he was sitting outside, leaning against the wall. He told me he'd been there since seven and was a little testy that I hadn't come home when he'd expected me. I let him in and decided it would be better, all in all, if he had a key so he wouldn't wait outside and alarm the neighbors. I think we'd been . . . I guess seeing each other is the right term . . . for about three weeks then."

"So, he was annoyed that your job kept you late?"

"No, he was annoyed that I was late. When I told him it was a case, he got it." He shook his head. "It was pretty low key for a couple of months. Once or twice a week he'd show up, or tell me he was going to show up, and we'd do the . . . we'd have sex." Tony grimaced. "He started wanting to come over more often, and leaving clothes. It started out as forgetting, but then he kept saying it would be more convenient if he could count on having something to change into. I actually washed them for him, mostly so they wouldn't stink up the apartment, but . . ." Tony put the file on the bed table and pulled his knees up. "I started getting annoyed around the holidays. He had family obligations, but he kept hinting that he wanted to have dinner with me on Christmas night. I told him I always went over to Gibbs' place, and that didn't sit well with him. I put my foot down, and told him there was no point in showing up because I wouldn't be coming home."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing that I know about," Tony said. "But he very firmly claimed New Year's Eve. I'd been planning on finding a nice anonymous bar and hanging out, but Brody showed up around seven with champagne and food. I pointed out that we weren't dating, but . . ." He shrugged. "I'd gotten pretty . . . I don't know what to call it. I just wasn't pushing back very hard. It all seemed like too much effort. If it made him happy, then I didn't have to deal with him bitching." He leaned his head on his knees. "I sound like an idiot."

"You sound like a man in severe depression who was being manipulated by someone who knew all the buttons to push, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "I'm sorry I didn't see what was going on with you sooner."

Tony didn't know what to say to that, so he ignored it. "Up till around New Year's, if I told him I wasn't in the mood, he generally backed off."

"Generally?" Fornell asked.

"Sometimes he'd get pushy, and sometimes I'd give in, but it wasn't . . . he never ignored it if I said a flat no."

"And after New Year's?"

"The first time was the night after we closed the Fargo case, Boss, like I told you. First or second week in January, I think. I . . . I said no in no uncertain terms, and he told me to shut up. But I didn't . . . I didn't try to fight him off. I just . . . I think now that if I had tried to fight him off, I would have found out just how far he was willing to go to make me a whole lot sooner. He was forceful enough when I didn't really fight back that I don't think he'd have stopped if I had."

"What did happen?" Fornell asked, and Tony looked up to stare at him. He really wasn't sure he could tell Fornell – or even Gibbs – the details on that. "Come on, DiNozzo. You're a federal agent, and you were a cop before that. You have to have asked people this same question yourself."

Tony blinked and nodded. "Yeah, I just . . . this is different somehow."

"Yeah, it is, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, and Tony looked up at his boss's face, remembering that there had to have been a time when he faced difficult questions of his own. "But you can get through it."

Tony snorted. "I don't have much choice, do I?" he asked dryly, and then he had to look away from the sympathy in Fornell's expression. Gibbs was easier. He just looked expectant. "I already told you about that time."

"Actually, you told me about a dream," Gibbs pointed out. "And you gave me no detail at all."

Tony thought back on that conversation. "I guess I didn't," he said. "But the dream was essentially a replay of what really happened."

When Tony paused and didn't say anything else, Fornell leaned forward. "Okay, go on."

Tony grimaced. "Right. What happened . . . I got home, tired and in the mood to do nothing more than watch a movie and drink beer. I thought I was alone, but when I came out of the kitchen with the beer, Brody was waiting for me." Tony shuddered. What would have happened that night if he'd put his foot down? "He grabbed me from behind – over my arms – and I told him I didn't want to."

"Were you surprised to find him there?"

Tony shrugged. "We hadn't arranged anything, but he'd taken to showing up randomly. Sometimes he'd tell me he was there, sometimes he'd let me get partway into my evening before surprising me." Both Gibbs and Fornell seemed to find that alarming, and Tony swallowed his unease. "Anyway, I told him I wasn't in the mood, and he told me he could put me in the mood. I told him I'd had a rotten day, but he pushed until I said no. Then he tried cajoling, but when I still said no, he . . ." Tony remembered the iron grip Brody had suddenly exerted over him. "He grabbed me tighter and told me he needed it and ordered me to give it to him. At that point he . . ." Tony closed his eyes. "He dragged me into my room. I started to say something, but he grabbed me by the neck and kissed me." He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this," he said miserably.

"I'm sorry, DiNutso," Fornell said, and Tony shot him a half-hearted glare. "Keep going. You're doing fine."

"I tried to push him away, but I couldn't. I thought then it was because I didn't really try very hard. He stripped my pants off me, and I told him again that I didn't want to. He grabbed my wrists and . . . and forced them behind me. He's big enough – was big enough – that he could hold both my wrists in one hand. He'd done it before, when we were playing around, but this time I didn't want him to. When I started to say something, he covered my mouth with his hand and told me to shut up. I . . . I could see he didn't care how I felt, and that if I didn't want to get into a wrestling match, I wasn't going to be able to stop him. It . . . stupid as it sounds, it was too much effort. He ripped my shirt getting it off me and then he –" Tony broke off, rubbing his forehead with his hands. "I'm going to have to sell that bed. Or maybe donate it. Get rid of it, anyway. I don't think I'll ever sleep in it again."

"What happened?" Fornell asked gently.

"He threw me onto the bed," Tony said. "I don't know if you've seen it . . ." He raised his eyebrows. He'd been the subject of two investigations by Fornell at this point. He'd be surprised if there was anything left that Fornell didn't know about him.

"He broke into your place to get your clothes, DiNozzo," Fornell said. "We had to look the place over."

Tony sighed. "Right. What all did he take? Was it just clothes and toiletries?"

"No," Gibbs said when Fornell didn't immediately answer. "Abby noticed three gaps in your DVDs, but we couldn't identify what was missing." Tony swallowed unhappily. He could guess. "And the pictures of your mother and grandmother were gone from your desk."

"I'll want those back," Tony said, sitting forward. "Are the Coasties holding onto them, too? I don't have any other copies, and I don't even know if my father kept any. He's not a sentimental man."

"We'll get them back, DiNozzo, don't worry," Gibbs said.

Under Gibbs' calm gaze, Tony relaxed back onto the pillow. "So, you've seen my bed," he said to Fornell, who nodded. "He threw me on it from the end, so I smacked into the footboard before he . . ." Tony shook his head. "I thought maybe if I didn't respond, he'd get the picture, but apparently all that he required from me was my presence. He . . . engaged in what he would probably have called foreplay for a little while, then flipped me over and . . . and I said no again. I told him to stop."

"And?"

Tony hunched down in the bed, his arms crossed over his knees and his face almost hidden. "He used a finger to . . . to penetrate . . . without any lubrication. I objected to his doing anything without lubrication." He could hear his own voice in his mind, begging Brody. _Not dry_. "He said, 'then shut up.' So I did."

* * *

Gibbs wondered if DiNozzo needed a break, or if it would be better to treat it like a Band-Aid. He suspected that Tony would prefer it all in one go, but he wasn't sure that was the healthiest move. Tony was curled up about as tight as he could get and still be sitting up, and he was shaking like a leaf. It wasn't obvious visually, but Gibbs had his leg up against the mattress, he was reasonably certain that this bed didn't come with a vibration mode.

"What happened then?"

Tony glowered at Fornell. "What do you think?" he demanded angrily. "He wasn't very careful, it was painful, and then he got all apologetic. He . . . I always liked to take a shower afterwards, and he went in with me and . . ." He shook his head. "He played me. I acted like every abuse victim I've ever watched and wondered about." Using his hands to form air quotes, he said, "'Why do they put up with that?' I've asked myself that question a million times, but I wasn't even in love with the bastard and I put up with it. It took another month before I kicked him out."

"Why did you put up with it?" Fornell asked, and Gibbs wanted to kick him.

Tony blinked and seemed to think about it. "Because I was an idiot?" he suggested after a moment. "Because I'm secretly masochistic? That might explain a few things about my life. Maybe I'm just –"

"Forget I asked," Fornell said, shooting a worried look at Gibbs.

Gibbs reached over and put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "You need a break?" he asked.

"What would be the point?" Tony replied. "I don't think I'd be able to relax or even calm down while I know he's still lurking with a tape recorder."

"I get that, DiNozzo, but maybe you need some rest."

Tony shook his head. "Let's just keep going. Fornell, ask away."

Under Fornell's persistent pushing, Tony continued to describe the deterioration of the relationship. Gibbs listened with growing anger that he kept firmly under the surface. He saw the man nearly every day. Looking back he could see signs of unbearable stress and indications of abuse, but he had put them down to other factors. How many signs had he missed? If Tony had risen and walked over to give McGee that file instead of leaning across so that his sleeve hitched up and revealed the black marks on his wrist, would he still be dodging Harris? Tony didn't go into detail for most of their sexual encounters, but Fornell got him to admit that over the remainder of January and into February, the coerced sex acts began to outnumber the consensual.

"I never really thought about it like that, though," DiNozzo said after admitting that. "I just thought I was being a pushover. I didn't . . . I wasn't . . ."

"You didn't want to admit to being raped, DiNozzo," Fornell said. "That's pretty common, especially for men. Now, you said he was following you?"

"I don't know about following," Tony said. "But he kept tabs on me. But any law enforcement officer could keep tabs on another to some degree by keeping an eye on their cases. I'm not sure he really started following me until I broke it off."

"What did finally end it for you?"

"I went to a concert with Abby. When I got home, Brody was waiting for me. I'd told him I wouldn't be available that night, but I wouldn't tell him why. He wasn't my boyfriend, I didn't owe him any explanations. I guess he decided to find out for himself. Abby can be . . . she's a very affectionate person. She kissed me good night, and a couple of her friends had kissed me hello, and they all wear very bright lipstick and strong perfume. I'd had a few drinks, so I was feeling pretty mellow, and when I got inside, the lights were off."

Gibbs went very quiet. He wanted more details on this encounter. Tony had gotten very defensive when telling him about it, and that was Gibbs' own fault. Abby was the apple of his eye, and everyone knew it. Tony had taken all the anger he'd sensed coming from his boss and assumed it was about the potential for danger to Abby.

"And what happened?"

"I didn't even know he was there until he punched me in the face and pinned me to the wall. I managed to get the lights turned on and was shocked. I thought I was being robbed or something. He'd never hit me."

Gibbs repressed the urge to say, _no, he'd just knocked you around and raped you._ That would be a quick way to shut DiNozzo up.

"How did he look?"

"Crazy," Tony said. "I started to ask him what was wrong with him, but he kicked the door shut and accused me of cheating on him. At first he implied that Abby was a transvestite, but I told him she was most definitely female. That actually made him angrier until I convinced him that I think of her like a sister."

"But you managed to convince him?"

"I told him she's just a sweet girl and that we're close in a sibling kind of way."

"And then what?"

"And then, with me still pinned to the wall, he started groping and offered to 'make it up to me.' I gave him a shove, and he must have been embarrassed because he let me push him away. I told him to get the hell out and not come back. He demanded to know why, and I told him that punching was not acceptable under any circumstances, and as a greeting it was even less acceptable. I opened the door and . . . and he let me kick him out." Tony flushed a deep crimson as he made the admission that Harris had allowed him to evict him. "I didn't think to ask for my key, and . . ." Tony shrugged. "Over the next couple of weeks I . . . I went out a few times. I can't stay home all the time. I kept running into him, even though I wasn't going to any of the places I usually hang out. I got the feeling that he was following me. I'm honestly not sure if he was going into my place while I wasn't home, but I got the locks changed just to be safe."

"When you say you ran into him, what do you mean?" DiNozzo shook his head, and Gibbs resisted the urge to press him. Fornell was handling the interview, and he was doing a fairly good job. Intervening now wouldn't help. It would simply shut DiNozzo down. "Are you sure you don't want a break, DiNutso?" Fornell suggested. "It wouldn't be surprising, we've been at this for some time."

"No," Tony said, and he almost sounded angry. "I mean he'd find me somewhere and start hassling me. At first it was just watching, but then he started approaching me."

"What would he do when he approached you?"

"Talk to me like nothing had changed. I would try to cut the conversation short, and he would push. He got so aggressive once that a guy in the bar offered to call the cops for me. I couldn't just leave, he'd sort of cornered me. Brody turned and showed him his badge, and the guy melted."

Gibbs scowled, but he didn't say anything. Most people would back off if a cop flipped their badge at them. He'd never made use of that reaction in a personal situation, but the temptation had been there on occasion.

Tony seemed to notice the reaction. "Hey, I was impressed that he said anything at all. Brody's a big guy. Besides, the distraction was enough. I left. The first time he really got physical was the night before you noticed it, Gibbs."

Gibbs gazed at him thoughtfully. "Define 'really got physical,' DiNozzo," he said.

"He'd grab me, shove me, but that was the first time he actually got hold of me, the first time there was anything . . ." He closed his eyes. "I need to use the . . . the bathroom," he said, and Gibbs stepped around the bed to help him up. He left him at the door and leaned back against the wall. The fan in the bathroom turned on automatically with the light, and the door shut firmly behind him.

"Of all the things to happen, I would never have expected this," Fornell said quietly. Gibbs looked over at him suspiciously. "Well, he's just such a confident guy, Gibbs. So aware of where he is with people. I wouldn't have expected him to be blindsided like this."

Gibbs snorted. "I've got to wonder what they teach you guys at the FBI, Tobias," he said, and Fornell's eyes narrowed. "All that time investigating him, and you still don't know the first thing about him."

"You forget, Gibbs, I wasn't looking for reasons to believe he'd done it, but for exculpating factors." He leaned towards him. "What are you saying?"

Gibbs shook his head. He wasn't sure he was going to discuss this topic, but if he did, he certainly wouldn't do it where DiNozzo could walk in on them. He leaned his head back against the wall. "So, do you have those guys? Simons, Robison and Hamlin?"

"We do, but we thought we'd have a live perp in Harris."

"Are you saying you made deals?"

"I'll have to check with the US Attorney. They may be down the tubes with the death of Harris, in which case we'll have to take it to trial and DiNozzo will have to testify. If that's the case, at least we know which one we don't want to give anything to."

"Simons."

Fornell nodded. After a moment, he tilted his head. "You really had no idea?"

Gibbs thumped his head against the wall. "I knew something was wrong, but there were enough other potential explanations that I didn't pursue it."

"Oops," Fornell said.

"Ya think, Tobias?" Gibbs shook his head. He'd failed DiNozzo repeatedly up to this point. He was not about to fail him now.


	20. Chapter 20

Abby walked out of the elevator with a pizza in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, a tote bag filled with magazines over her shoulder, and the ribbons of a black balloon bouquet clenched between her teeth. Tony had never seemed to appreciate the black roses she'd given him in the past, so anti-grav fun seemed like the order of the day. The box of gourmet brownies balanced on top of the pizza ought to make him very happy.

Agent Sacks was standing outside Tony's room, and Abby was relieved. He started to say he was sorry about something but she just shoved the coffee, pizza and brownies into his hands. "Thanks," she said when she could pull the balloons out of her mouth. "Bring them in here," she added, pushing the door open.

"Tony?" she said. The bed was empty, though the covers were mussed. Agent Fornell was sitting at the foot of the bed and Gibbs was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. "Where's my Tony?" she demanded. "You said I could see him later, Gibbs."

"He's in the bathroom, Abbs," Gibbs said mildly.

"Oh." She looked around. "Put the pizza down over there, Sacks," she ordered, and he followed her instructions, looking somewhat uncertain. She couldn't figure out why. She hadn't exactly been unclear. Depositing the tote bag by the head of the bed, she appropriated the coffee back from him and presented it to Gibbs. "Your brand, just how you like it," she said with a curtsey.

"Thank you, Abby," Gibbs said.

She turned and started pulling the individual balloons out of the bouquet. The foot of the bed wouldn't do, they would block the TV, and Tony couldn't do without TV. She squinted up at the appliance. There was no DVD player, so if he was in here for long, she'd have to borrow her friend Eddy's handheld. It would hook to that TV. Returning her attention to the furniture in the room, she walked over and tied two balloons to the head of the bed, one to the back of the chair, one to the bracket that held the TV, one to the handlebar on the trashcan and was contemplating her other options when Tony emerged from the bathroom. She was standing against the same wall with Gibbs in between her and him, but she could see Tony look around and then smile broadly.

"Where's Abby!" he asked, sounding pleased.

She was rushing over to hug him when she saw his apprehensive wince and stopped abruptly. He was wearing a hospital gown that was gapping a little in back, and she could see bandages affixed to his butt. His arms and legs were mottled with bruises, and he looked like he'd been strangled. "Can I hug you?" she asked nervously.

"I told you," he said. "You never have to ask, Abby."

"I meant without hurting you," she said worriedly.

He hugged her, and said, "Just go easy on me, Princess of Power."

Abby leaned back, lips pursed. "Do I look pink and gold to you?"

"No, but you're kick ass, and she's kick ass," Tony said with a grin, and Abby grinned back.

"And she wore high heeled boots all the time," Sacks pointed out, and both she and Tony turned towards him in surprise. "And so do you," Sacks added, pointing at her glossy Tory Burches.

"Sacks!" Tony exclaimed mockingly. "Don't tell me you have a pop fetish!"

Sacks glowered. "I watched He-Man and She-Ra just like every other kid our age."

Tony laughed and Abby stepped back. Before she quite realized what was happening, Gibbs had taken her spot and was helping Tony back over to the bed. "What's wrong? Why does he need help walking?"

"I tore my feet up good on the cargo ship," Tony said. "But don't worry, I'll be chasing the bad guys before long."

Abby marched over to the side of the bed and glared at Tony, her hands on her hips. "Not until Ducky says it's okay. None of this jumping back on the horse before you can really breathe yet stuff this time."

"I'm not having breathing problems, Abby," Tony protested.

"You know what I mean. I just don't want you sleeping on the floor of my lab again. I mean, not that I mind you sleeping on the floor of my lab. Anytime you need to, you know you're welcome, but I don't think that's how you should spend your first day back at work, even if you hate staying home without anything to do."

"Abby!" Tony exclaimed.

"And don't tell me you come just for Bert, because I –" She looked around for the stuffed hippo. "Gibbs, where's Bert?"

Gibbs' eyes widened and he looked around. "Bert's here?" Tony asked.

"Who's Bert?" Fornell asked.

Gibbs bent down and picked the hippo up off the floor. "This is Bert," he said, dusting him off. "Sorry, Abby, but DiNozzo wasn't very interested in him when he was asleep."

Tony reached up and grabbed the hippo, giving him a big squeeze. The sound that emerged caused Fornell's eyes to widen, and Sacks leaned forward. "Did that hippo just fart?" he asked.

"No, that was Tony," Abby said sarcastically.

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed, glaring at her. He turned to Sacks. "It was the hippo."

"Where do you get a farting hippo?" Sacks demanded.

Abby started to answer, but Fornell spoke before she could. "Agent Sacks, I thought I told you to keep guests outside," he said sharply.

Abby bridled at the notion that someone was supposed to keep her away from her Tony, but Tony just laughed. "Abby's a force of nature, Fornell," he said. "Sacks didn't have a chance."

"Tony!" she exclaimed. "You say the nicest things." She scurried over and tied the last two balloons to the IV stand. "There, much better."

"Miss Scuito, we were interviewing Agent DiNutso, and we weren't quite done."

"Okay," she said, and she settled on the bed next to Tony, who snuggled up beside her. "Go ahead."

Tony snorted. "I told you she was affectionate, Fornell."

"Yes, you did," the agent said. "Miss Sciuto, we –"

"Why did you tell him I'm affectionate?" Abby asked.

"Because you are," Tony replied.

Abby shook her head. This didn't sound right. Tony wouldn't tell Fornell anything he didn't have to. "But why did it come up?"

Tony turned his head and his eyelids drooped with weariness. "I'm tired, Abby."

Her heart melted at the pathetic look in those gray eyes, so she accepted this transparent effort to deflect her. She put her hand on his head and pulled it down to rest on her shoulder. "Go to sleep, then, Tony," she said. "You like cold pizza, too."

"Miss Sciuto, we were in the mid –"

"Shhh!" Abby hissed. "Tony's sleeping." She stroked his head. "You can talk to him later."

Fornell started to say something, but Gibbs put a hand on his shoulder. "You did suggest a break, Tobias. Let's go eat."

Abby smiled at them and pulled Tony closer. "Don't worry, Tony," she murmured. "I'll take care of you."

Gibbs, Fornell and Sacks left the room.

Tony leaned his head on her shoulder and relaxed. "I know, Abby. I know."

* * *

"Sacks, stay here and keep an eye on things," Fornell ordered, and then Gibbs led the way towards the hospital cafeteria. "I only suggested the break because I knew it would egg him on to keep him going, Gibbs," he said. "He'll be happier when he's got it all out."

Gibbs snorted as he hit the elevator button. "Fornell, nothing is going to make him happy for the foreseeable future. Certainly not telling you about what's been happening."

"I didn't say happy," Fornell said, walking onto the elevator. "I said happier."

Gibbs shrugged. In his opinion, an interlude with Abby would be more beneficial right now than more time spent talking about Brody Harris. "Give him an hour," he said.

After the elevator doors closed, Fornell turned to him. "So, what the hell do you mean I don't know the first thing about DiNutso?"

Gibbs closed his eyes. He wanted to say it was irrelevant, but Fornell would have to finish this interview, and there might be need for further questions later. He sighed. "Did you hear what Tony said about his stepmother?"

"Yeah, she keeps him and his father in contact, and he doesn't tell her the whole truth. With DiNozzo's lifestyle, that doesn't exactly surprise me." Gibbs shook his head. This wasn't the NCIS headquarters. If he stopped this elevator, it would alarm people. In fact, it might cause problems with patient care. Nevertheless, he wanted to have five minutes alone with Fornell to explain the facts of life to him. The elevator doors opened and they walked towards the cafeteria. Gibbs grabbed some food-like items and paid for them, then found a spot as far from other diners as possible. Fornell joined him, glancing around. "Okay, are we going to actually talk now?"

"DiNozzo said, 'Joyce likes me for whatever reason,'" Gibbs said without prelude, and Fornell's brows drew together. "He actually finds that shocking, Tobias, because his father doesn't like him. He lies to his stepmother because his father doesn't approve of his job. His lifestyle is completely acceptable, being a playboy is normal for young men of Tony's class."

"I knew he came from money," Fornell said. "We found that out last year."

"Swiss Army knife money," Gibbs said, and Fornell shrugged. "How many Swiss Army knives do you think are sold each year?"

"I don't know. What's your point?"

"Just making clear the level of money, Tobias." He shook his head, trying to figure out how to get an understanding of DiNozzo's personality across to Fornell. "When Tony was ten years old, his father forgot him in Hawaii."

Tobias had just taken a bite of food, and his eyes bulged until he managed to swallow. "Forgot him? Are you serious?"

"For two days. According to Tony, he only realized what had happened when he got the room service bill. His mother dressed him in sailor suits and drank his sea monkeys because she was too drunk to recognize what she was drinking." He grimaced. "From everything he's said, and things I've found out on my own, his parents treated him as an accessory when they remembered he was there."

"So you're saying he's insecure."

"In his personal life, he's the definition of insecure, but he hides it amazingly well. I think the whole frat boy, rich kid appearance aids the perception, though. People just can't believe that a man with all his advantages really lacks confidence."

"I've never gotten the impression that he lacks confidence."

"That's because you don't deal with him on a personal level," Gibbs said. "He doesn't give a damn what you think of him outside of his professional capacities. He's confident enough on the job, it's in the area of personal relationships where he has trouble."

"So, you don't find his being in an abusive relationship surprising?" Fornell asked.

Gibbs scowled. "It's more complicated than that. Just before he got involved with that bastard, he was on a long term undercover assignment that involved engaging in a romantic relationship with an innocent woman who just happened to be connected to a criminal. It ended badly, for the woman especially, and Tony took it hard."

"Oh, lord," Tobias muttered. "How hard?"

"Hard enough that I'm not surprised to find him punishing himself," Gibbs said. "And if any of this makes it into an official report –"

"No, I get it, Gibbs. You just wanted to protect your fair-haired boy from my rough and tumble tactics."

"Fair-haired boy?"

"I'm not a fool, Gibbs, I know how much you think of him."

"He's on my team, Tobias. That's all."

"Gibbs, feed that line to someone else." Gibbs glowered at him. "Hey, we all had bets. Blackadder lasted, what, four months? Ross was like seven months? Langer wound up leaving your agency and joining us. Burley lasted five years, but he was living on Rolaids and Mylanta by the end, and you didn't remember his name half the time. DiNozzo has hit seven years and you show no signs of wanting him gone, and he would fight for the right to stay. Don't tell me that doesn't mean anything."

Gibbs gazed at him for a long moment, vaguely amused to know that people had considered the matter worthy of betting on. "Seven years, huh?" he said thoughtfully.

"We're getting old," Fornell said.

"Yeah."


	21. Chapter 21

Gibbs looked up from his boat to find Tony slowly making his way down the stairs, a little surprised to see him.  It was just past four in the afternoon, and Tony had gone to take a nap at three.  His days since his release from the hospital on Sunday had consisted largely of sleeping, eating when Gibbs pushed him to, and watching movies.  He hadn’t said much of moment, and Gibbs had now seen several movies whose existence he hadn’t previously been aware of.

For the time being, Gibbs was letting Tony acclimate a little, not pushing too hard.  The combination of physical and emotional trauma made for a hard thing to recover from.  Gibbs had a little personal experience with that, and he wasn’t any too pleased with how he’d handled his own recovery, especially the second time.  But he hadn’t been willing to let anyone else help.  Tony might not be saying much, but he was here.

The remainder of Saturday’s interview with Fornell had gone quickly, largely because DiNozzo had rigidly repressed all emotional reaction.  Gibbs hadn’t been surprised.  He knew that Tony wouldn’t want to have a flashback in front of Fornell.  After a less than restful night’s sleep in the hospital, Tony had been released around one.  At Jenny’s insistence, they had gone straight to NCIS for another interview.  Tony had been less forthcoming with Jenny.  Again, Gibbs hadn’t been surprised at either DiNozzo’s reticence or Jenny’s frustration with it.  Like he had with Fornell’s interview, he’d remained in the background, though he’d watched Jenny closer.  Fornell didn’t have an agenda with DiNozzo, and Jenny did.  After that, Tony had submitted to a series of photographs taken by Ducky to document his injuries.  On top of the attacks, it all served to wear DiNozzo to the bone.

Tony reached the basement floor and shuffled over to his usual spot by the wall.  A cushion had been placed on the floor as a concession to the cold of the concrete and Tony’s injured rear end.  Gibbs had suggested moving a more comfortable chair down here, but Tony had refused the suggestion indignantly.

“I thought you were going get some sleep, DiNozzo,” he said, looking over as Tony sagged down onto his cushion.

“I was,” Tony said.  “I did.”

Gibbs glanced at the clock.  He couldn’t have slept as much as an hour.  “Bad dream?”

“Freaky dream,” Tony said, reaching down and picking up the DVD remote.  Abby had come by on Sunday evening with a DVD player and all the wiring doodads that allowed her to hook his aged TV up to it.  Tony asked Gibbs’ permission with a look, and turned the player on, superceding Gibbs’ news reports.  While he navigated the DVD menus, he said, “I’ve told you that I keep dreaming of Brody killing McGee, and then dragging him off me and throwing him away.”  Gibbs nodded.  “This time, when McGee’s body was dragged off me, it wasn’t Brody.  It was Ari.”

Gibbs blinked at him.  “Ick,” he said.  The simple reaction concealed a whole host of internal upheavals.  For one thing, Ari had died not five feet from where he was sanding.  For another, Ari had come alarmingly close to killing McGee the day he’d killed Kate.  They might have come down from that building to find that he and DiNozzo were on the team alone again.

Appearing to take Gibbs’ one word response at face value, Tony snorted and leaned his head back against the wall.  “So, I thought I’d come down and watch some more _I Love Lucy_ if you don’t mind.  That and watching you work is kind of soothing.”

Gibbs chuckled.  “Sure, DiNozzo, whatever you want.”  Ignoring ancient TV shows was no strain, especially if it kept DiNozzo on an even keel.  Every so often, he’d pop out with a nugget of information or an emotional aside.  It wasn’t happening fast, but it was happening.

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.”  They sat in companionable silence for a while, and then Tony cleared his throat.  “I’m sorry, Boss.”

“What for?”

“I should have told you when things got out of control.”

Gibbs nodded.  “Yeah, you should have, but don’t kick yourself too hard about it.”

Tony sighed.  “I still can’t figure out why he wanted me so bad,” he said.

Gibbs shrugged.  “He was whacked,” he replied, keeping his real opinion to himself.  He thought Harris had found the combination of personal insecurity, professional competence and good looks irresistible.  If Brody hadn’t punched him for such a ludicrous reason, Tony might not have broken away yet.  Tony really didn’t need to know that, though.

“You really aren’t going to work tomorrow?”

Gibbs snorted.  Jenny had called earlier in the day to ask when he was planning on coming back in, and he’d told her to jump in a lake.  Actually, he’d told her that his doctor hadn’t okayed his return, and that he would accept days without pay if that was required, but that he wasn’t returning until his doctor thought he was ready.  Jenny had read between the lines, and though she hadn’t been happy about it, she’d accepted it.  He looked over at DiNozzo.  “I’m really not,” he confirmed.

DiNozzo was quiet for a moment, then he cleared his throat.  “So, you going to spend all that time on your boat?”

“I had considered it,” Gibbs said.  They’d spent most of their time down here, and Tony hadn’t shown any signs of wanting anything else.  This could be a good sign.  “Why?”

“I need clothes,” Tony said.  “I don’t want any of what Brody chose for me back, and I don’t really want to go to my apartment right now, even if I was sure it wasn’t still cordoned off.  I think I’m probably going to have to pay my service extra to cover the costs of cleaning up after a crime scene.”

Gibbs grimaced.  “I suppose that’s true,” he said.

“So, I thought maybe you might be willing to take me somewhere that I can find jeans.”

Gibbs paused in his work and looked over at his subordinate.  He was surprised that DiNozzo wanted to go out.  He wouldn’t have thought the younger man was ready.  “Actually, Ziva will be by later with five or six pairs of jeans and some shirts.  I told her to pick out a selection so you can try the stuff on, then she can take back whatever doesn’t fit.”

Tony looked up, eyes wide, and Gibbs couldn’t read his expression.  “Seriously?”

Gibbs sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.  “I didn’t think you’d want to go out right now.  If I’ve overstepped my bounds, I –”

“No!” Tony said instantly, and Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the immensely relieved expression on his face.  “I don’t . . . I didn’t . . . I just didn’t want to put anyone to too much trouble,” Tony said, and Gibbs realized that his desire for something other than borrowed sweats had been conflicting with his earnest desire not to go anywhere.  He gave Gibbs a genuine smile.  “That’s . . . that’s great, Boss.”

Gibbs nodded, satisfied.  He returned to his work, and when he looked over after another few minutes, he saw that DiNozzo had conked out against the wall.  The show was still playing, but Tony was out.  Gibbs shook his head but didn’t say anything.  He kept working and kept an eye on DiNozzo till eight.  Ziva was due at eight thirty, so he walked over and gave DiNozzo a light tap on the head.

“Huh?”  DiNozzo looked up.  “Di’ I fa’ sleep?” he asked incoherently.

“Yup, but I’m thinking you’ll want to get a little cleaned up before Ziva gets here.”

Tony blinked at him. “When’s she coming?”

“A half hour.”

DiNozzo started to scramble up off the floor, but Gibbs reached down to help him up.  Tony took his hand gratefully.  “I’ll be back down in a few.”

Gibbs followed him up the stairs, ready to steady him if his balance wavered.  He kept an eye out as DiNozzo went up the steps to the second floor, then ducked into the kitchen to get a few things ready.  The front door opened and Gibbs walked out into the living room to find that Ziva had brought Abby and considerably more bags than he’d anticipated.  “I asked for some clothes to tide him over, Ziva.”

“Abby came along and we . . .”  Ziva glanced at Abby with a sly grin.  “We did, perhaps, go slightly overboard.”

“No no no!” Abby exclaimed.  “Tony needs clothes, and we have to give him some choice.”

Gibbs looked at the four bulging bags that showed logos from three different stores and he shook his head.  “Choice?” he repeated.

“I will go and get the others,” Ziva said.

“Others?” Gibbs exclaimed, but Abby just winked at him and went outside.  He followed after and picked up the two bags that were still in the back of Abby’s hearse.  “How much stuff did you buy?”

“Enough for now,” Abby said, reaching in and grabbing another bag out of the back seat.  He knit his brows incredulously as Ziva reached in and grabbed two more, both very square.  “It’s Tony, Gibbs.  He likes clothes.”

Gibbs caught Abby by the arm and let Ziva go ahead.  “You know that anything that smacks of sexuality is going to be bad.”

Abby shook her head.  “I know what you mean, Gibbs, but this is entirely different.”

“How so?” he asked.

“I’m like his sister, and Ziva’s a girl.  Neither of us is remotely likely to remind him of the jerk who . . .”  She grimaced.  “I can’t even say it, but this won’t bother him that way, Gibbs.  I promise.  I know Tony.  Sometimes I think I know him even better than you do.”  His brows knit as he looked at her earnest face.  “Trust me.”

Gibbs sighed.  “I trust you, Abbs.”  He took the bag from her and carried it into the house.

* * *

Tony went down the stairs slowly, bending almost double to see if there was anyone there.  He saw Ziva depositing a couple of bags that were clearly full of shoeboxes on the floor in front of the sofa.  He continued down the stairs and looked at all the bags.  “This is just like Christmas!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.  Unfortunately, his eagerness to express that thought distracted him from paying attention to where he was walking.  He caught one of the more ragged gashes on his left foot across the edge of the rug on the hardwood floor.

He stifled a cry of pain and stumbled forward against the end of the couch.  Ziva turned and slipped her arm around him.  “What happened?” she asked.

“I stepped on something,” Tony grunted.  “I’m fine.”

She ignored the statement, helping him to sit down on the sofa.  “I am sure, but perhaps you should sit for a moment.”

Since she was pushing him down, he didn’t have much choice.  “Okay,” he said.  “How much shopping did you do?”

“Abby helped,” Ziva said, and Tony looked up to see Gibbs walking inside carrying three more bags.  He looked somewhat perturbed, and Tony was more than a little startled by the sheer amount of clothing implied by the number of bags entering the room.  Then Abby came in, and Tony’s eyes widened.

“I’m surprised you’re carrying bags, Boss,” he said, nodding towards Abby.

Gibbs paused in the act of dumping the three bags he was carrying on the floor and looked over.  He hurried back to Abby and took the trifold framework from her.  “What is this, Abby?” he asked.

“A screen, for modesty,” she said, looking around the room.  “Over there,” she added, pointing to a corner with a curtained window.  “I’ll grab a chair.”  She walked into the dining room and brought out a straight back chair.  Looking slightly bemused, Gibbs let her direct him in the placement of the screen to create a changing room.  Tony watched, feeling moderately befuddled.

He leaned over to Ziva.  “Are you guys setting up a boutique?”

“Abby wishes to see you in the garments we have purchased, to be certain they fit.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of that myself,” Tony said, though he had to admit, he was finding Abby’s exuberance hard to resist.

“Okay, Tony,” Abby said.  “Go behind the screen and disrobe.”  Tony rose and took up a couple of the bags.  Abby snatched them back.  “I’ll give you what you need.  Go on.”

“Abby, I can dress myself.”

“No one is disputing that,” Abby replied.  “However, this evening, I am going to dress you.  Think of it as _Goth Eye for the Club Guy_.”  She gazed at him with such pleading and excitement that he couldn’t resist.  Gibbs was settling down in a chair, and Tony grimaced.  At least McGee wasn’t here.

He went around behind the curtain and removed the sweat pants he’d borrowed from Gibbs.  Then he pulled off the t-shirt.  “Abby?” he said after a moment.  “It’s getting a little cold back here.”

“Here,” she said, holding out a pair of jeans, a button front shirt and a pair of dark socks.  “I know they’ll be a little wrinkled, but we couldn’t exactly take garment bags with us.”  Tony sat down and pulled on the jeans.  Dark blue, well cut, they fit exactly the way he liked them to, and they were precisely the right length.  The shirt was fairly standard, but designed to be dressy even without a tie. It was polished cotton, purple with a very slight gold pinstripe.  He buttoned it up and tucked it in.

“Belt?” he asked.  She handed one over the screen, and he looked at it.  It was his, the one he’d been wearing when Brody made him take his pants off and get in the car.  He pulled the knife out of the concealed sheath and looked at it briefly, then resheathed it and put the belt on.  “What about shoes?”

“Come out, Tony.  You don’t need to be modest for the putting on of shoes.”

He emerged and found, to his surprise, that another addition had been made to the furniture of Gibbs’ living room.  A full length mirror in an oval cherry frame with ornate scrollwork.  “That is a gorgeous mirror,” he said.

“I like it,” Abby said.  “Only you’re not supposed to be looking at the mirror but at your reflection in the mirror.”

Tony refocused his attention a little reluctantly.  The clothes fit great, they looked good, but he still had bluish, greenish marks on his face and neck, and the backs of his hands still showed signs of bruising, too.  “Looks good,” he said, his tone a little forced.

Abby was walking around him.  “It does,” she replied.  “Now, look here.”  Gibbs’ coffee table had been transformed into a shoe store display.  He glanced over at Gibbs, who was still looking somewhat bemused.  “Are we having dinner soon?” he asked.

“Pizza’s on its way, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said.

Tony raised his eyebrows.  Over the past several days, Gibbs had provided him with a great deal of food, but he hadn’t had pizza since the hospital.  “Cool.  Um . . . those all look pretty good, Abby,” he said watching her fuss with the shoes.  “Let me try them on.”

“These,” Abby said firmly, holding out a pair of black lace ups.  They were very attractively styled.  He slipped them on with a little difficulty and tied them, but standing up proved more unpleasant than he would have preferred.

“I think I’m going to have to wait on good shoes,” he said.  “Arches are very uncomfortable right now.”

“I told you, Abby,” Ziva said in an undertone.

“Well, they’ll fit,” Abby replied.  “And if they don’t, the store will take them back as willingly in a month as they would tomorrow.  I also got you some very nice, very warm, very elegant slippers,” she said, pulling out another box.  Ziva had already started packing away the shoes, and Tony mourned the necessity.  They looked great, all of them.

The slippers were soft and heavily cushioned on the inside, yet designed to resemble loafers, and unlike most slippers of that sort, they actually did resemble real loafers.

“Wait, did you say pizza, Gibbs?” Abby asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh!  I sent for Thai,” she said.

“Where from?” Tony asked.  He wasn’t aware of any good Thai places nearby, and if there was such a thing, he’d like to know about it.

“Thai Satay,” Abby replied.

“But they don’t deliver out this far,” Tony protested.

Abby shrugged.  “It’s not delivery.”

“Someone’s picking it up?”

She nodded.  “McGee and Ducky.  Go.  We’ve got lots to try on.”

He rose and went back behind the screen to try on several more outfits like the first, then for a while all that came over the screen were shirts and jackets.  The clothes varied in elegance.  Some were clearly stay at home type stuff, and some were clubbing quality.  Not that he’d be clubbing for a while, but if he did go out with friends, it would be nice to have something that would look decent.

He was wearing a pair of black jeans and had just pulled on a dark red shirt that was made of cotton with a bit of spandex in the weave to make it fit snugly when the door opened.  Great.  McGee.  He wouldn’t care about the clothes, but he’d find the whole situation weird, with everyone gathered for the DiNozzo fashion show.

He straightened the shirt up neatly and got it buttoned up the front.  The collar was open to the top of the sternum, and it tucked in.  He did up his belt and walked around the screen and froze.  It wasn’t McGee, or even Ducky.  It was Jenny.

She stared at him, her eyes wide, and his eyes darted from her face to the mirror.  The collar of the shirt revealed more of his neck than it concealed, and he could clearly see two of the bite marks Brody had left.  He knew for a fact that several of the other shirts had bared the same skin, but he hadn’t really noticed because Ziva and Abby were being so cool about it all, and Gibbs had seen everything already.

He turned around and went back behind the screen and took the shirt off hastily.  Hesitating for a moment, he listened to the silence in the room behind him.  This was Abby’s fun, and he was damned if he was going to spoil it.  “Got anything else for me, Abby?”

“Um . . . actually, just one more thing,” she said.  “I’m not sure –”

“Give it to me.”  After a moment, something long and dark came over the top of the screen.  He reached out to take it and realized that it was a pair of black leather pants.  “Abby?”

“I saved the fun stuff for last, Tony,” she said, sounding apologetic, and a creamy white shirt followed, then a large box, the size that would generally hold boots.  “It’s meant to be worn with these, but if you can’t manage it I’ll understand.  I just thought you’d look cool, and you could always use it as a Halloween costume.”

He pulled off the black jeans and started shinnying into the leather pants.  The creamy shirt turned out to be somewhat poetical in nature, with flowing sleeves and laces at the neck.  Opening the box, he found a pair of extremely dramatic boots, the sort of thing guys wore on the fronts of romance novels.  For five minutes, they couldn’t hurt.  He slid his foot carefully inside first one and then the other, then pulled them up to slouch around his knees.  He took a deep breath and decided to pretend that there was nothing wrong with his neck or any other part of him.  He squared his shoulders and walked slowly around the screen.

Abby let out a squeal of delight.  Jenny and Gibbs were no longer in the room, but Ziva was looking at him approvingly.  “It is an interesting look,” she said with a smile.  “Not for the office, perhaps.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Abby said.  “Imagine the confessions he’d get from female suspects!”

He gave himself the once over in the mirror.  Ignoring the injuries, he did look pretty hot.  The door opened and McGee came in carrying two bags full of succulent odors.  He stared at Tony with wide eyes.

“. . . and there were six separate layers of – dear boy, is something wrong?”  Ducky could be heard, though not seen, trapped as he was outside the house

“What?” McGee said, still staring at Tony as he shifted further inside.  “No, nothing’s wrong,” he added, his eyes fixed on Tony.  “Abby, you were right,” he said.  “I admit it.  He . . .”  McGee shook his head.  “Whoa.”

“I what, McGee?” Tony asked, mildly unnerved by the look in the probie’s eyes.

“Nothing!” McGee exclaimed, and his expression changed as he stopped looking at Tony like he was some kind of static display and actually seemed to recognize Tony the person behind the costume.  His jaw snapped shut and he looked suddenly very uncomfortable.  “Abby just – she said – I don’t – I’d better get these into the kitchen.”  He hurried away, leaving Tony wondering just what was wrong with him.

Ducky stepped forward and, holding the collar of the shirt out slightly, said, “Those are healing nicely, my boy.”

Tony had been expecting some comment regarding the clothing, so this reference to his injuries pulled him out of the self-created delusion that he was entirely well.  He disengaged himself and said, “If you really want to look me over, Duck, I’m going to go change into something a little less . . .”  He trailed off, looking for a word that wouldn’t insult Abby.

“Florid?” Ducky suggested.  “That sounds like an excellent notion to me.  Have you seen a doctor since Sunday?”

“No.  I’m supposed to see someone by Friday.  Today seems good enough to me.”

“We’ll see.  By the way, you do look very dashing.”

Tony grinned.  “Now I have this urge to whip off a cape and spread it over a puddle.”

“I knew I forgot something!” Abby exclaimed.

Tony’s eyes widened.  He ducked behind the screen and pulled the boots off, then grabbed a pair of jeans and a turtleneck.  “Come on, Ducky.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you in the United States and her territories, happy Fourth of July! The rest of you are welcome to have a happy fourth of July, just not capitalized, and with, no doubt, fewer picnics and with a distinct lack of fireworks.

Tony led the way up the stairs and into the spare room and starting taking his clothes off. He turned his back to Ducky and ducked slightly so that the doctor could see the back of his left shoulder. "Is that going to scar?" he asked, his voice a little more urgent than he'd intended.

Ducky touched the skin lightly and made a thoughtful sound. "I think not. You don't seem to scar very easily, and it isn't all that deep."

Tony nodded, biting his lip. He knew he'd just revealed more to Ducky than he really wanted to, but he couldn't bear the idea of a scar in that spot or from that injury. "Everything seems to be healing okay. No infection, not even on my . . ." He gestured in the general region of the abrasions on his buttocks.

"Good," Ducky said. "I'm glad to hear you're keeping them clean, but you are being careful, aren't you? It's common for . . . for people in your situation to –"

"Rape victims, you mean?" Tony asked, his voice breaking slightly. "You can say it. I won't fall apart."

"Of course you won't, Anthony," Ducky said, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I never meant to imply anything of the sort."

"And I am being careful. Whenever I feel the urge to scrub through my skin, I rinse everything off and get out of the shower. I may take a few more showers than usual, but then Gibbs starts bitching about the lack of hot water."

Ducky chuckled. "So long as you don't hurt yourself."

"A little dry skin won't kill me."

"No, that it won't."

Ducky was very matter of fact throughout the rest of the exam, and Tony was relieved to know that he was recovering just fine. He sat down on the bed to pull his jeans on, and Ducky turned towards the door. As he watched Ducky walk away, worlds boiled up out of nowhere. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going to fall apart," he said abruptly, and then he wondered what had made him speak.

Ducky turned back. "I'm not surprised," he said, and nothing in his manner suggested that he was startled by Tony's sudden outburst. "I'd be shocked if you didn't, actually."

Tony blinked at him. "What does that mean?"

Ducky came over and sat down next to him. "Anyone who's been through what you've been through has a perfect right to fall apart once or twice, or more often, even."

Tony considered this. "So, if I don't, is that wrong?"

Ducky shook his head and patted Tony's denim-clad knee. "There is no wrong when it comes to recovering from trauma."

Tony bit his lip and tilted his head. He and Ducky spoke simultaneously. "So, burying it and trying to forget –" he started to say, but then the sense of what Ducky was saying sank in.

"Well, maybe there is one wrong. Denial."

Grimacing, Tony stood up and zipped his jeans. "So, no burying it and pretending it didn't happen?"

"That does have a habit of coming back to haunt you later, Anthony," Ducky said. "And if you're very good at it, you might wind up hiding out in Mexico."

That was an angle Tony hadn't considered, and a ruthless attack on Gibbs that Tony wouldn't have expected from Ducky. He pulled the turtleneck over his head and turned back around to find Ducky watching him. "I wasn't planning on it, Ducky," he said. "Though there are moments when it's tempting."

"Do you recall my telling you once that you reminded me of Gibbs when he was younger?" Tony nodded. He remembered feeling flattered by the remark. "Well, that extends to the bad as well as the good, dear boy."

"It's Gibbs, Ducky," Tony said facetiously. "There is no bad."

"Mexico?"

"That never happened," Tony intoned.

"And we're back to denial," Ducky said with a mock sigh.

"And it's time for Thai."

They went downstairs where Jenny had joined the party, and he found himself wondering if Palmer would hear about this gathering and feel left out. He'd been avoiding Palmer assiduously up to now, but this didn't seem fair somehow.

"Has anyone called Palmer?" Tony asked before really considering it. The people nearest him turned in surprise.

"Mr. Palmer is having dinner with his family tonight," Ducky said. "He did send his felicitations, and he will be glad to know you asked after him." Tony nodded and got back to his food. He wondered how long it would take Palmer to corner him.

Abby walked over and threaded her arm through his. "How very nice of you to think of him," she said with a smile. She led him into the kitchen, where an impromptu buffet had been set up. "Now, pepperoni, sausage and extra cheese or Pad Thai?"

It was a good thing Gibbs had a large dining room table and extra chairs. McGee was sent to fetch an extra from the kitchen while Abby ran to retrieve the one from the changing room. They all settled down to eat, and Tony felt a little overwhelmed by company, but definitely like people cared how he was. It was an odd feeling, one he didn't quite know what to do with. He wound up sitting between McGee and Ziva with Ducky and Abby sitting across from them. Weirdly, Jenny and Gibbs had taken the head and foot of the table – Tony wouldn't lay odds as to which was which with those two – and it all felt vaguely like a family meal.

When Abby returned after getting seconds, she sat down and gazed levelly at McGee. "So, Timothy, where's my fifty bucks?" she asked, apparently apropos of nothing.

McGee choked on his chicken and swallowed, then looked up with an expression of mild outrage. "What? You were serious about that bet?"

"Totally," Abby said. She leaned across the table towards McGee. "Are you welching on me, McGee?" she demanded.

"Welching!" he exclaimed. "No, I'm not welching. I just didn't think we were serious."

"Welcher!" Abby accused. "Hit him, Tony!"

Amused, and willing to go along with Abby even though he had no idea what they were talking about, Tony gave McGee a smack on the back of the head. "Pay up, Probie," he said.

"Tony, you don't even know what it's about," McGee protested.

"He knows you're a welcher!" Abby said, her eyes narrowing.

"And it's Abby," Tony said. McGee grimaced, conceding the point.

"Hit him again," Abby said, and Tony raised his hand.

"No!" McGee exclaimed, pulling out his wallet.

"Should I even know about this?" Jenny asked Ducky in an undertone.

Ducky chuckled. "I'm genuinely not sure."

"What is this bet, Abby?" Ziva asked.

"Oh, we were in a supermarket one day and McGee dragged me to the book aisle to see if his paperback was there, and he grabbed a romance novel by someone named Wilhelmina Charlotte, I kid you not."

"You read romances, Probie?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Actually, no," McGee said irritably. "It just had this picture on the front that I thought looked really stupid."

Tony blinked at him. "They usually do. Heaving bosoms and half naked men, clothes from five different historical periods, anatomically bizarre poses, etc. What of it?"

Abby settled more firmly in her chair and grinned at the whole table. "McGee told me that no living human being would look anything but silly in the outfit the guy was wearing on the cover. I think he was supposed to be a pirate, but I didn't read the blurb, so I don't know for sure."

Tony blinked. "Don't tell me, a poet shirt, tight leather pants and those slouchy boots?"

"Exactly, though that really isn't why I chose it, Tony," Abby said with a grin. "I've wanted to see you in something like that practically since I met you. No, I told McGee that you could carry it off."

"And I said you couldn't," McGee said. "She proposed a bet." He handed some folded bills over to Abby who ostentatiously counted them.

Tony turned slightly and looked at McGee. "I am both flattered and slightly creeped out by that, McGee," he said. "But I'm going with flattered because that will keep you alive."

McGee gave him a dubious look. "I appreciate that, Tony," he said.

"All he was missing for the look was a great big hat with a feather and a cape."

Tony managed to smile and nod and the conversation carried on in another direction. Later, when people were cleaning up – and ordering him to sit down if he tried to help – he beckoned at Ziva to sit beside him on the sofa. "Keep her away from stores with capes, would you?" he murmured when she'd joined him. "I'm not sure I can take it."

"Not even for a Halloween costume?" Ziva asked curiously.

"I've told you how I feel about Halloween," he said.

"What if I told you that I would have a Halloween party," she suggested archly, and his attention sharpened.

"A party?" This idea had its merits.

Ziva leaned closer, her body pressing light against his arm. "And I would dress in something . . . barely legal," she added in a husky voice

Tony stared at her. "I'd say you have my attention," he replied.

She smiled at him, gazing up at him through her eyelashes. "Low cut," she elaborated.

Tony's imagination was going into overdrive. He raised his eyebrows. "Back or front?" he asked, joining in on the game.

She blinked slowly and languorously. "Both."

The image now fixed in his head, he grinned at her. "Then I'd say, 'Bring on the cape!'"

She dropped the pose and let out a genuine laugh. When she laughed like this, when the whole seductress, dangerous assassin mask fell away, she made him think of a teenager having fun. It made him wonder suddenly if Ziva had ever really been a teenager. In Tel Aviv, with that father, it seemed somehow unlikely. He'd have to have a chat with Abby and see if they couldn't provide Ziva with some of that kind of fun. Movies, skee ball, bumper cars, roller coasters. He got lost in a contemplation of Ziva's reaction to a theme park. She might have been to one, but it would be different with him and Abby. Maybe they would even invite Tim . . .

A loud crash from the next room made him sit up sharply and he realized that he had actually fallen asleep on the sofa while talking to Ziva. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Go to bed," she said firmly. "Do you need help getting up the stairs?"

He tried to summon up the energy to say something suggestive, but his creative powers failed him and he just said, "No, I can make it." Everyone else was still in the dining room or the kitchen. "Say good night for me, would you?"

"Of course, Tony."

He was dimly aware of her watching him climb the stairs, the way Gibbs had been, and it made him feel safe. It was a nice feeling. He managed to get the jeans and turtleneck off, but after that he just sort of fell into the bed.

* * *

"You should be happy, Abby," Ziva said, and Abby sighed as she clicked on the turn signal. "I believe he had fun."

Abby shrugged. "Until the director came in and stared at him like that," she said sourly. "You could almost see the cold water hitting him." Abby waited to see if Ziva was going to question the metaphor, but she didn't.

"He enjoyed it, Abby."

"But I think he enjoyed it to please me, which isn't bad necessarily, but he needs to enjoy things because he enjoys them."

Ziva sighed. "He still felt the enjoyment, Abby. It will push him in the right direction." They fell silent for a moment, and Abby wondered what Ziva was thinking. Abby was now feeling all the anger and dismay she had suppressed while Tony tried clothes on and off, showing various of the injuries that Brody Harris had inflicted on him. No doubt Ziva was doing the same. Abby only wished the director had managed to stay with the program. Ziva cleared her throat. "I have committed to holding a Halloween party, Abby," she said, and Abby turned to look at her in surprise.

"Rock on!" Abby said with a grin. "That'll be cool."

"I have no idea what is traditional for a Halloween party aside from costumes," Ziva said plaintively.

"How did Tony get you to go along with it?"

"He did not," Ziva said. "It was my own idea. It was the only thing I could think of that would persuade him to put on the cape and hat you want to see him in."

"Like you don't want to see him in them, too," Abby said with a chuckle.

Ziva shrugged with a sly look at Abby. "However, I will need your help in planning this event. I know it is some months off, but there is no chance that Tony will forget, and I wish it to be . . . suitable."

"Are you asking me to help you plan a Halloween party?" Abby asked, a broad grin spreading across her face, ideas already sprouting. "Oh, that is so cool!"

Ziva gave her a nervous look. "Am I getting myself in over my head?"

"Quite possibly," Abby said, "but don't worry. I'm sure you can tread water."

Ziva didn't seem reassured, but Abby just laughed. "Now we just have to come up with the perfect costume for a Mossad assassin."

"I have already made a commitment in that direction," Ziva confessed.

Abby gave her a sidelong look. "Oh really?"

"It was necessary for persuasion," Ziva said with dignity.

"How risqué did you go?" Abby asked.

"It is Tony," Ziva said with a chuckle.

"You have a point," Abby replied. "If you need any help putting something together, I know some fantabulous costume designers."

"I will keep that in mind."

They fell silent again, and as they drew close to where Ziva had parked her car, Abby said, "So, how pissed are you now?"

"No more than before, but I saw him in the hospital at Fort Buchanan."

"Right," Abby said. Ziva'd had help keeping the lid on it. "Well, it's a good thing that jerk is dead, or I'd be planning untraceable murders as we speak." She pulled up beside Ziva's car. "Well, see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Abby," Ziva said.

* * *

Gibbs went up to check on DiNozzo after everyone had left. He didn't have any mess to clean up, or none to speak of. Abby had seen to that. When he reached Tony's room, he was surprised to find that he was mistaken about everyone leaving however. He'd thought Jenny was gone, but he found her sitting on the chair next to the dresser, watching DiNozzo sleep.

She looked up at him and he raised an eyebrow. Rising silently, she paused while Gibbs actually checked on DiNozzo, then followed him back downstairs.

"Can I see your boat?" she asked once they were out of earshot of DiNozzo's room.

"Sure," he said. They went down to the basement and when she didn't immediately speak, he walked over and grabbed the sanding block. There was a rough patch on one of the ribs he'd been meaning to smooth.

It took a good twenty minutes for her to find words, and when she finally did, he looked up in surprise. "This is my fault. I'm surprised you haven't told me so."

"What good would it do?" he asked, reflecting that he hadn't expected her to recognize it herself. He hadn't been prepared to confront her with how wrongly she had handled DiNozzo's undercover op because the chance of her getting another opportunity were slim to none. He shrugged. "It's my fault, too."

"We shouldn't have let DiNozzo persuade us to leave it as a private matter," she said, and Gibbs went still for a moment. True though it was, that wasn't what he'd thought she meant. "If we'd pressed the issue, there's no way Harris would have gotten hold of him."

"If we'd pressed the issue, Harris would still be alive, and there's no guarantee he'd have been prosecuted, much less convicted. He was obsessed, Jenny. I don't like what happened, but I'm glad he's dead."

"What are you saying, Jethro?"

"If something hadn't pushed him into acting hastily, he might have taken the time for a better plan," Gibbs said. "Instead of jumping willy nilly onto the nearest boat for South America, he might have thought it through and come up with a way to evade us entirely. As it is, we only found him when we did because a CIA agent on the ship saw what was happening and decided to take action."

"That's a disturbing thought."

"Isn't it?" Gibbs said. He'd had a few nightmares of his own.

"Still, if I had just gotten that CIA report earlier, we would have –"

"If doesn't get us anywhere, Jen. We need to deal with the situation we have, which, with Harris dead, is significantly simplified. With no need for a trial, there's no need for a lot of public attention, and if DC Metro has any sense, they won't want to drag it out in the open. With the evidence we've got, it will only make them look bad."

"Unfortunately, they don't always have sense." She sighed. "I need you back at the office, Gibbs."

"Something new come up?" he asked.

She pursed her lips. "Your insights are occasionally useful," she said.

"I'm not leaving DiNozzo alone for any length of time, Jen, and he's definitely not ready for the office."

"Doesn't he have family, Jethro?" Jenny asked. "Someone who can stay with him?"

"You mean like his father?" Gibbs suggested, and Jenny nodded. "The man who left him behind in Hawaii when he was ten?" Jenny blinked. Evidently she hadn't heard that delightful tidbit either. "Haven't you ever noticed that DiNozzo doesn't talk about family much? I don't even think his father knew he was missing."

"Actually, I've been meaning to ask you about that. There's a notation in his file not to call his family unless he's gone more than seventy-two hours. Do you know why?"

Gibbs grimaced. He'd had no idea DiNozzo had gone through with that. He cleared his throat. "When he'd been here maybe six months, there was an incident where he went missing for almost thirty hours. It was a fifty-fifty chance whether he was dead or not. Morrow called his father after the first twenty-four, and DiNozzo heard about it for weeks afterwards. I heard at least one of the voicemails his father left, and it was unpleasant. I remember him saying he might tell Morrow not to bother if it came up again. I didn't know he'd done it." He shook his head. "I wouldn't call his father on something like this."

"I see." She looked up thoughtfully towards the ceiling for a moment. "Let me know how things are going," she said finally. "I'd better be getting home."

"I'll keep you posted, Jen."

She nodded and went up the stairs. He heard the door open and close and got back to work.


	23. Chapter 23

Thursday passed much as Monday and Tuesday had – only with real clothes – and Tony was getting a little claustrophobic. The trouble was, he didn't want to go anywhere till he looked a little less like someone had been smacking him around. He just needed some space, but it wasn't like he could kick Gibbs out of his own house. Since his own place was still under FBI jurisdiction, he couldn't go home – not that he wanted to – so he didn't know what to do.

Around eleven on Friday morning, he walked into the kitchen to find Gibbs making a grocery list. "You going shopping?" he asked.

"I was going to order some groceries," Gibbs said, looking up.

"You really ought to go in person," Tony said. "I mean, that way you can test the produce yourself, make sure everything's fresh, find the sales, get –"

Gibbs looked up from his list and turned slowly to Tony. "Are you trying to get rid of me, DiNozzo?"

Tony considered lying, but Gibbs always saw through that, and there wasn't anything wrong with wanting a couple of hours alone, was there? "Yeah, I am, Boss. Just for a while. I mean, I really appreciate all the time you've spent, but I need some –"

"You don't need to make excuses, DiNozzo," Gibbs said mildly. Tony fell silent, a little embarrassed by the urge to over-explain. "You need anything?" he asked, pointing to the list.

"I'm good," Tony said. "I'll just get lunch started while you're gone. Hamburgers?"

"Sure." Tony went and grabbed his iPod and entered the kitchen again as Gibbs left the house. He got out the ground beef and some spices he'd gotten Abby to bring by for him and started fixing burgers à la DiNozzo. There was potato salad in the fridge left over from last night's dinner. He got the ground beef prepped and started cutting a tomato into slices. He was looking in the fridge to see if there was any lettuce left when he heard someone knocking at the door.

It had to be a neighbor. Surely the simple Gibbs aura would be sufficient to repel salespeople and religious evangelists. Except maybe Girl Scouts and the purveyors of band candy. Those the Gibbs aura might attract. He was contemplating the various effects Gibbs might have on different sorts of solicitors as he approached the door.

True to form, Gibbs had left it unlocked, and whoever it was had grown impatient, because Tony was still five feet away when the door opened and three men walked in. "Captain Carvaggio," Tony said, a little startled by the appearance of the police captain of the region of DC where he lived, together with two of his flunkies, Detective O'Hara and Officer Flint. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

They were alarmingly silent as they spread out, looking around the room. Tony suddenly felt very surrounded and highly unsure. Their manner bordered on hostile, and he was acutely aware that he was alone and wearing nothing more on his feet than heavy socks. The door to the kitchen was behind him, and he started backing up to give himself more room.

"Agent DiNozzo," Carvaggio said. "I have some questions for you regarding the alleged burglary of your home."

Tony blinked. "I thought the FBI was handling that," he said. He stopped moving because O'Hara had managed to sidle behind him and was lounging in the doorway he'd been edging towards.

"I'm sure you did," Carvaggio replied. "And I'm sure it gave you comfort to know that your Fed friends were helping you out, but we're not satisfied with the explanations we're being given about the disappearance of Detective Lieutenant Brody Harris."

"I know the FBI is handling that investigation," Tony said. This had a very sour smell to it, and he was alone and surrounded and not at his best. He felt his hands start to shake and locked it down. He could not afford to show weakness in this situation.

"As I said, we're not satisfied, and we want some answers of our own."

Tony cleared his throat. "Then let's make an appointment for me to come downtown and talk to you," he said nervously.

"Why don't you have a seat and we can talk right now," Carvaggio said, gesturing towards the sofa.

Tony didn't particularly want to be stuck in a room with a bunch of cops who were already angry with him asking questions they wouldn't like the answers to. He shook his head. "Look, I think you'd better just leave." Carvaggio took a step closer to Tony, the menace in his stance growing visibly. Tony didn't let his reaction show. "I'll call in the next couple of days and make an appointment so we can –"

"Are you refusing to cooperate, Agent DiNozzo?"

"I'm not required to cooperate with an unofficial investigation," Tony said.

"What makes you think it's an unofficial investigation, Agent DiNozzo?' Carvaggio asked. He flipped his head slightly and Flint started to close in. "As a fellow law enforcement official, I'd think you'd want to help get any questions cleared up as soon as possible."

Tony couldn't stop himself from edging away from Flint. He knew he was being manipulated, but he didn't feel able to take control of the situation. "Any questions you have should properly be directed towards the FBI," he said. "Agent Fornell would be happy to –"

"I'm asking you, Agent DiNozzo. Detective Lieutenant Brody Harris left Washington DC in company with you, and he has not returned. When one of my brother officers tells me he's having trouble with a federal agent, and then shortly after that he goes missing in the company of that federal agent, I get concerned."

Tony froze. "He told you what?"

"He told me you were giving him some trouble," Carvaggio said, and Tony's hands started to shake harder. God . . . Carvaggio didn't know what had been going on, did he? He couldn't possibly have known. He was a jackass and a jerk, but he wouldn't have tolerated . . .

"I really think you'd better leave," Tony said.

"I have questions that you're going to answer. If not here, then downtown."

Tony realized that he'd been maneuvered into a corner from which there was no route of escape. "Look, I'll come down, but now isn't the best time."

Carvaggio shook his head. "I don't know how you work things at NCIS, but at DC Metro we don't let suspects decide when it's convenient for us to question them."

"What are you accusing me of?" Tony asked.

"Nothing yet," Carvaggio replied. "We just want you to come down and clear up a few points."

Tony took a deep breath and realized that he wasn't in range of any phones. "Fine. Just let me make a phone call and I'll –"

"You can make a phone call when we get to the station."

Tony shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere until I've made a call." He gestured with his chin towards the kitchen. "The phone's just in there. You can come and listen if you want."

"You can call from downtown."

Tony knew this game. Isolate the suspect, intimidate him. He shook his head. "Unless you're arresting me, you have no right to prevent me from making a phone call."

"All right, then, you're under arrest," Carvaggio said.

"You have a warrant?" Tony asked. Carvaggio shook his head. "Then what's your probable cause? What's the charge?"

"I've got two witnesses here who will say you took a swing at me," Carvaggio said. Tony glanced over at Flint and then at O'Hara. They both looked dead serious. They were also closer, and Tony's back hit the wall.

"I said I'd go," Tony replied, his mouth dry. "All I've done is ask to make a phone call."

"I've got two guys who'll say otherwise," Carvaggio said. "What have you got?" Tony swallowed uneasily. Flint had his handcuffs out, and they were all three within reaching distance. If he did anything at all to fight back, it would kill his chance of being believed, but he found the entire notion of being handcuffed right now a little freaky.

"He's got me." The voice came from the kitchen, and Tony looked up in astonishment to see Colonel Mann emerge from the back of the house. She was in full uniform and looked thoroughly pissed. "It's an interesting game you're playing here, gentlemen. I think, however, that you'd better stop."

"Who the hell are you?" Carvaggio asked, and Tony saw Flint slip the cuffs back into the holder on his belt. He wasn't sure Colonel Mann had seen them.

Tony cleared his throat. "Allow me to make proper introductions," he said. "This is Colonel Hollis Mann, Army CID, Colonel Mann, these are Captain Carvaggio, Detective O'Hara and Officer Flint, DC Metro."

"A little outside your jurisdiction, aren't you?" she asked with an edged smile.

"Less outside it than you are," Carvaggio said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited," she replied. She pulled out her phone and pressed two buttons. "Now I'll just make that phone call you wouldn't let DiNozzo make, and we can straighten this all out."

Tony kept his game face on, determined not to let it slip. Colonel Mann's appearance had been nothing short of a miracle. He wondered why Gibbs hadn't told him she was coming. He was still standing in the corner, still surrounded, when he heard a muffled curse and the key in the lock.

* * *

Gibbs grabbed the first two bags out of the bed of the truck and headed up to the house. He reached for the doorknob, ready to shoulder his way in, but the knob wouldn't turn. He fiddled a little, but it was solid. He put one of the bags down on the porch and checked again. It was locked. Muttering a little, he dug out his key and unlocked it.

"DiNozzo, why on earth did you –" he started as he walked through the door. Then he saw DiNozzo crowded into the corner of the living room by three DC cops, and Holly, in full uniform, staring down Carvaggio, the leader of the pack.

At that moment, his cell phone began to ring, and Holly shook her head. "It's me, Jethro," she said, closing her phone. "I wanted to alert you to this." She gestured towards the corner where DiNozzo looked ready to climb backward through the wall.

"What are you doing here, Carvaggio?" Gibbs asked.

"We have questions for DiNozzo."

"And Director Shepard told you we'd discuss a meeting when he was off sick leave." He hadn't been happy about that concession, and it appeared that he wasn't the only one.

"He looks perfectly healthy to me," Carvaggio said aggressively. "What are you hiding?"

Gibbs looked across at Tony. The bruises on his face had faded and were largely hidden by a growth of beard, and DiNozzo was wearing a turtleneck, so his condition wasn't obvious on the surface. "Nothing," he said. "Looks can be deceiving."

"I demand to know what happened to my man!" Carvaggio growled. "'Missing, presumed dead' does not cut it."

Gibbs put his remaining bag of groceries down and walked straight up to Carvaggio till they were nearly face to face. Carvaggio swayed backwards slightly as Gibbs entered his space bubble, but he didn't move away. "You want to know what happened to Brody Harris?" Gibbs asked quietly, and Carvaggio's eyes narrowed. "I shot him. In the chest. From forty feet away. He fell backwards over a railing into the Caribbean Sea a couple hundred miles off the coast of Puerto Rico. His body was not recovered, which makes him missing, presumed dead." Rage exploded in Carvaggio's eyes, but Gibbs kept his cool and took another step forward, forcing Carvaggio back. "At the time I shot him, he was aiming a gun at Agent DiNozzo, who was unarmed and had his hands cuffed behind him. Harris shot first. The only reason Agent DiNozzo is still alive is that another member of my team threw himself in the path of the bullet."

Carvaggio blinked at him, then he shook his head. "That's bullshit. Harris would never have done that."

Gibbs' eyes flashed up and to the left, over Carvaggio's shoulder. Tony looked pinned to the wall. Gibbs returned his attention to Carvaggio. "Were Harris still alive, the evidence in our possession would have put him away for a very long time. Now, if you are not out of my house by the count of ten, I will call the local police to come escort you off the premises. One. T –"

"Boss," Tony said, and Gibbs paused, looking at him. "He arrested me. I wouldn't want . . . I don't like the idea of . . ." DiNozzo trailed off, looking down.

It took a lot of effort to contain the fireworks going off in his head, but Gibbs managed it. "You arrested DiNozzo?" Carvaggio didn't respond, and his two cohorts looked like they wished they were anywhere else. "On what charge?"

"They were going to claim he took a swing at them," Holly said.

"You can't prove otherwise," Carvaggio said. "You weren't in the room."

Holly pointed to the front window. The heavy bush in front of it turned it into a mirror. "I could see everything as well as hear it," she said.

Gibbs turned back towards Carvaggio with an insincere smile. "Can I assume that you've reconsidered arresting Agent DiNozzo?"

It looked like Carvaggio would rather gargle glass than admit it, but he nodded jerkily. "He's not under arrest." He glanced over his shoulder. "Not at this time."

"I'm filing a formal complaint for harassment and trespass," Gibbs said. "Against all three of you. And you might want to consider whether you really want to make a public spectacle out of the fact that you had a serial rapist working in your department for the last ten years." Carvaggio's eyes widened. "Out. By the count of ten. One. Two. Three . . ."

They were out the door by five. When the latch had clicked, DiNozzo sank straight to the floor where he was and rested his head on his knees. Gibbs hurried forward. "You okay, DiNozzo?" he asked, squatting in front of his senior agent. DiNozzo looked up and nodded, though he looked a little wild eyed. "Why was the door locked?"

DiNozzo shook his head. "I don't know. Probably to prevent what did happen. Them getting overheard and/or interrupted." He turned and looked over at Holly. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything from your agreeing to go with them forward," she said.

"You agreed to go with them?" Gibbs asked.

DiNozzo nodded. "They were going to take me anyway. I was trying to do it on my own terms, but they weren't going for it."

"How far did it go?"

"One of them had his cuffs out when I came around the corner," Holly said. "He tried to sneak them back away, but I've been on the job a little too long to miss the signs."

"Cuffs?" Gibbs repeated, his irritation notching up a step. "Did any of the three of them actually touch you, DiNozzo?"

The younger man shook his head. "I . . . I let them maneuver me into the corner, but they hadn't gotten around to touching me yet." His eyes sought Gibbs'. "This kind of thing is going to make working with DC Metro a little challenging."

"You have friends over there, DiNozzo," Gibbs pointed out.

DiNozzo shook his head. "Not really. I have people I talk to pleasantly, but the fact is that my having gone from detective to federal agent tends to set some guys' backs up a bit, and cops tend to be very aware of how other cops view an outsider. This just adds another fun obstacle to overcome."

"You didn't do anything wrong, DiNozzo."

Pushing away from the wall, DiNozzo started to get up. Gibbs took a step back and offered a hand, but either DiNozzo didn't see it or he didn't want to use it because he got up on his own. "How was it Abby put it? I exercised poor choice in boyfriends, and in my case the boy part of that was probably a poor choice to start with." He shrugged. "At least she didn't start dating someone who'd targeted her for assault as a means of luring her in."

Gibbs saw Holly's eyes widen and hoped she'd wait to ask till later. "DiNozzo, you couldn't know that."

"Doesn't say much for my reading of people, though, does it, Boss?" Tony asked, giving him an angry look that had Gibbs worried. Inward directed anger was not a good thing right now. "Not when I sat in your basement a week ago and told you the bastard wasn't a rapist – after he'd been raping me whenever he felt like it for nearly two months."

Gibbs didn't quite know how to respond. A smack on the head seemed wrong, but he didn't have words to explain why he thought DiNozzo was overreacting. He was terribly afraid that no matter what he did or what he said, he was going to lose his best agent.

"Sociopaths are notoriously hard to read," Holly said suddenly, and they both looked at her in surprise. "Come on, DiNozzo," she added. "Gibbs said it himself. The man worked side by side with other cops in DC for ten years and not one of them picked up on his secret. He was a skilled manipulator, and you got caught. Learn from it, but don't let it eat you up."

DiNozzo gazed at her for a long moment. "I want to thank you, by the way," he said. He crossed the room and gave her a hug, which seemed to startle her, but she returned it. "I think that if they'd actually tried to cuff me, I would have lost it then and there, so your timing couldn't have been better." He turned back towards Gibbs. "I'm going to go finish making lunch now. Or are there more groceries that need to brought in?"

"Yeah, there's some stuff in the truck, but Holly and I will get it. You go fix lunch."


	24. Chapter 24

Tony nodded and, scooping up the bag Gibbs had deposited on the coffee table, he went into the kitchen. Gibbs watched him go, then led Holly out to the truck. "What happened?" he asked.

"When I got here, I tried the front door. It was locked and your truck was gone, which with anyone else I would take as a reason to head out to grab myself a bite of lunch. But since you don't lock your door, and I knew I was expected, I figured I'd go around back and see if that door was unlocked." Gibbs nodded and started to reach into the truck bed for a bag of groceries. "When I got inside, I heard an unfamiliar voice asking DiNozzo to come down and 'clear up a few points.' I didn't know what was going on, so I stopped to listen. I could see a little of what was happening, not as clearly as I implied to them, but I knew it was three against one."

He paused, leaning against the truck, looking down into a bag full of potatoes and carrots. "Yeah?"

"DiNozzo agreed to go with them if they let him make a call – I assumed he wanted to call you."

"Probably a safe assumption."

"They tried to get him to come down without calling, you know the drill. 'You can call when you get there,' we've all done it." Gibbs nodded. "Tony refused, said he wasn't going anywhere if he didn't get to call. When they wouldn't budge, he told them they had to arrest him to stop him, and Carvaggio told him that he was under arrest. Tony asked for the charges, and Carvaggio began spinning off a story about how if the three of them said he'd swung at them, it would be his word against theirs. That's when I intervened."

"I'm really glad you showed up," Gibbs said. "I probably would have shot someone if I came home in the middle of that." He shook his head. "If I'd come home to find him gone . . ."

"Yeah," she said after a moment. "Well, this isn't getting the groceries inside."

He handed her a bag and took the last one himself. As they walked into the kitchen, Gibbs said, "Do you have a change of clothes?"

She blinked. "You know, actually, I have nothing clean at all. I didn't even stop by the house."

DiNozzo turned from where he was deftly shaping patties. "Jeans or sweats?" he asked Holly.

"Jeans," she said, sounding mystified as she put the grocery bag down on the table. DiNozzo rinsed his hands quickly and ducked into the mud room. A moment later, he emerged with a pair of jeans and the red turtleneck he'd worn the day before.

"Fresh from the dryer. They'll be too big, but they'll work, I think."

Holly took them, looking bemused. "I'll go get changed," she said, and Tony returned to his patty-making. Gibbs started putting the groceries away.

"Jenny agreed that I should meet with them, huh?" Tony asked.

Gibbs nodded. "In the spirit of interagency cooperation."

"Right. Playing politics like a good little director." Gibbs knew he should probably stop Tony from speaking so disrespectfully, but he didn't have the heart. DiNozzo had earned it. They worked silently for a few moments more, then DiNozzo spoke again. "He told Carvaggio I was 'giving him trouble.'" Gibbs turned, but DiNozzo wasn't looking at him. He'd piled the patties interlayered with wax paper on a plate and went to wash his hands. "So that's why Carvaggio did this. He thought I was pulling something underhanded – who knows what – and that I was getting away with it because the federal agencies were going shoulder to shoulder against the local cops."

"DiNozzo –"

He turned around and grabbed a hand towel. "How do you suppose he would have reacted if I'd told him what Brody meant by 'giving him trouble'?" He shook his head, a bitter expression on his face. "I said no when Brody wanted me to say yes, and I came close to making it stick."

"I doubt he would have believed you," Gibbs said honestly.

"You want toasted buns? I'm fine either way."

The non sequitur threw him, but only for a moment. "I'll check with Holly, and we'll take care of it."

DiNozzo nodded and walked out the back door to the grill. Gibbs watched him go and wished he knew how to fix this mess so DiNozzo could stop hurting and get on with his life. He pulled the potato salad out of the fridge and put the spoon in it and generally got things ready so they could have a backyard picnic. Holly came in looking adorably adrift in DiNozzo's clothing. She walked over straight into his arms and they had a proper kiss. "Remind me why I didn't retire?"

"They told you they needed you to help out with one last case, and offered you a promotion to stay," Gibbs said.

"I'm not sure it was worth it."

"Is it done?"

"Not yet. It's never done till the paperwork's done."

"You've got that wrong," Gibbs said, and she leaned back and fixed him with a suspicious stare. "It's never done till the paperwork's been accepted."

The lines around her eyes softened and she smiled. "Isn't that the truth?" she said. "How has he been?"

"Talkative," Gibbs said, glancing out the window to where DiNozzo was grilling burgers. "Without saying much. I don't think he's letting himself feel anything too strongly right now."

"Not surprising."

"Jenny wants him to see a shrink before she'll let him back in the field." Holly nodded. "I think he's afraid of it."

"What about you?" Holly asked.

"I think he'll do fine."

"I meant a consult," she said. "You shot someone. Isn't it de rigeur?"

"Oh, I'll see them. They'll ask the questions, I'll parrot the right answers and we'll move on." He looked down at the bag of sesame seed buns. "You want these toasted?" he asked, holding them out.

She shook her head and picked up the plate of garnishes and the bag. "Grab the condiments."

* * *

Tony walked into the kitchen where Gibbs and Holly – she'd told him to call her Holly during lunch – were talking over dinner preparations. "Abby, Tim and Ziva are taking me out for dinner," he said.

Gibbs looked up, his eyes wide. "Okay," he said, and Tony smiled internally. He'd been counting on Gibbs' not wanting to make him self-conscious by asking if he was sure he was ready. He wasn't sure, but he also wasn't sticking around for the first night of the Gibbs-Mann reunion, either. Holly tilted her head, her eyes unreadable, but Tony figured she knew what he was up to.

"Abby's got a midnight movie picked out, and then we'll hang out at Ziva's for a while. I should be back in the morning."

Gibbs rose and walked past him into the living room. Tony hadn't seen a message pass between them, but Holly stayed where she was. Tony followed Gibbs. "What's up, DiNozzo?"

"I feel like going out, Boss," Tony said. "Don't worry. Abby and Ziva have already worked out a plan for what to do if I freak out."

Gibbs brows went up. "They told you that?"

"No, but I know them. Tim will stand there looking confused and worried, and they'll move into action." Tony tilted his head. "Unless they've already brought him in on the plan. They're very thorough, both of them, so that's entirely possible."

Gibbs gazed at him for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "Have fun," he said, then returned to the kitchen and Holly. Tony smiled after him. At least someone was having a decent relationship. He went out on the porch and sat down. He had one hope, and that was that he avoided running into any cops during the evening.

The terrible trio showed up in Ziva's car, which made Tony happy. Tonight didn't seem to be the night to go out on the town in a hearse. Too many bad omens there. Tony got up and went down to the car where Tim was riding shotgun already. He contemplating rousting the probie out of his seat, but then he decided that cuddling in the backseat with Abby was the invalid's prerogative and just got in.

"Were they being unbearably cute?" Abby asked with a grin as soon as the door was shut.

Tony shook his head. "I think they're a little old for unbearably cute," he said. "But the tension between them was growing unbearable."

"Tension?" McGee asked as Ziva pulled away from the curb. "Are you saying they're angry with each other?"

"I think he is referring to a different kind of tension, McGee," Ziva said. "Am I right, Tony?"

"Correctamundo," Tony said with a chuckle. "I mean, she was in the land of sun and sand for six weeks, then they saw each other for what, an hour, last week. There's a lot of frustration been building, no doubt." McGee was looking at him funny and Tony raised his eyebrows. McGee bit his lip and turned back to face front, but the unasked question was resounding loudly in his silence. "What is it, Probie?" Tony asked.

"I – nothing," McGee said.

"No, come on, Probie. You're going to explode if you don't ask, and that would make a mess in Ziva's car. What is it?"

McGee turned around, his brows knit. "I'm just surprised to hear you talking like that. I mean, after . . ."

Tony wondered if his skin was flushing. He felt slightly too warm and a little lightheaded as he tried to control the emotions McGee's question called up. Why could he never leave well enough alone? "After what?" Tony asked lightly, attempting to pass the question off without addressing it. He hoped McGee would play along, but after he'd forced him to pose the question, Tony knew the chances of McGee not pursuing it to an answer were slim to none. He knew how McGee's mind worked.

Sure enough, McGee shrugged. "After what happened to you, I'm surprised you can joke about sex."

Tony cleared his throat. "I'm joking about consensual sex between two consenting adults who are, if not in love, in a reasonable facsimile thereof. It's entirely different."

"Yeah!" Abby said defensively. "Besides, what happened to Tony wasn't about sex. It was about power and control." Unlooked for support could be a boon. At the moment, he wished Abby had left her words unsaid, or had at least chosen to say them when he was elsewhere. He looked out the window and reminded himself that he had set this excursion up.

"Abby, you still have not told me where the reservations are," Ziva said into the uncomfortable silence that followed.

"Flaherty's," she said.

"I've never been there," McGee said, and Tony blessed the fates because that gave him something to turn the subject.

"You've never been to Flaherty's?" he said with mild derision. "And you wonder why I still call you Probie?"

"It's a restaurant, Tony. It has nothing to do with my job."

"It's a microbrewery, McGee, and the fact that you don't know that has everything to do with your job. What kind of a detective calls a microbrewery a restaurant?"

"It is a restaurant, Tony. If it was just a microbrewery, they wouldn't necessarily serve much food. I've been to ones that didn't have much more than pretzels and nachos."

"I guess it depends on which you think is more important," Ziva said. "The beer or the food." Abby, Tony and McGee all answered at the same time, and Tony glowered at the other two. "You are outvoted, Tony," Ziva said. "Flaherty's is now officially a restaurant."

"It's a pub," Abby said in her usual peaceable fashion, and Tony winked at her.

Dinner at Flaherty's was always good, and the movie Abby chose was very good in a geeky kind of way. He'd seen it once before. Abby had all but handcuffed him and dragged him to the theater when it came out in 2005 as part of a massive effort to rejuvenate a failed franchise. He had then allowed her to persuade him to watch all of the episodes of the short-lived TV show. Evidently the movie was on the midnight circuit now.

"Why did they all speak Chinese?" Ziva asked as they walked up to her apartment.

"The idea is that in the future, the United States and China are pretty much the strongest cultural influences," Abby said.

Ziva paused before unlocking her door and turned to Abby, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense."

"I still don't get why any self-respecting woman would become a companion," McGee said, and Tony rolled his eyes. On occasion, he really wished McGee would get over the 'sensitive guy' kick and move on with his life.

"It's a cultural thing, McGee," Abby said. "You saw the show, it isn't all about sex, anyway."

"You wouldn't do it."

"I wouldn't be any good at it," Abby replied with a laugh.

Tony shook his head. "Oh, come on, McGee, are you telling us that if there was such a thing as a companion, you wouldn't want to visit one?"

"No!" McGee said, sounding offended.

"Oh, I do not know," Ziva replied, settling down in a chair. "I might consider it."

Images danced behind Tony's eyes that made him smile. "I'll be in my bunk," he muttered. Abby gave him a light smack on the shoulder, and he winked at her.

"Well, we already know Tony's answer," Ziva said. "What about you, Abby?" The images became almost too much to bear, but Tony turned to Abby anyway.

"Maybe," Abby said slowly. "But I've wondered . . . do you suppose there's such a thing as a male companion?"

"I do not see why not," Ziva said. "Unless there is something in this 'show' that suggests otherwise."

"No, there isn't, but don't spoil my fantasy," Tony protested.

"That's disgusting," McGee said irritably.

"Nothing disgusting about it," Tony replied.

"You want to see the show, Ziva?" Abby asked.

"Certainly, but –" She broke off, and Tony looked up to see that Abby had pulled the DVD set out of her purse. "Tonight?"

"Why not?"

Tony slouched on the sofa. "Sounds good to me." McGee, geek that he was, took no persuasion at all, so Ziva shrugged and made popcorn. Tony watched for a while, but eventually he drifted off to the image of Mal telling Zoe that he loved her.

He woke to the smell of waffles and the sound of quiet arguing. "I think we should wake him. He has been asleep most of the night, so it will not harm him."

"No, Ziva, let him wake up on his own," Abby replied.

Tony blinked at the ceiling. He was lying full length on Ziva's couch and there was a blanket over him.

"Too late, he's awake now," McGee said. There followed a bewildering period of fussing while they got him sitting up and cosseted him with waffles and orange juice. McGee went and got his own breakfast and sat down looking remarkably unjealous. He must have caught Tony's surprised look, because when Ziva and Abby had left, he said, "I got this last week, while you were out of reach at Gibbs' place, and while my ribs still hurt if I moved too fast."

Tony blinked. "It's a little much," he said, glancing towards the kitchen where Abby and Ziva were bickering in a friendly sort of way. "Am I allowed to go to the bathroom? They practically ordered me to eat."

McGee laughed. "I think they'll understand," he said.

They kept watching _Firefly_ while they ate breakfast, and Tony guessed they must have stayed up awhile after he went to sleep, because they were four or five episodes past the last thing he remembered. Ziva seemed to be really enjoying it, though, so he didn't mind.

It all felt very much like the more low key of his college get togethers. Despite his stories and reputation, his college years hadn't been only about beer and babes. Significant amounts of beer had been quaffed and significant numbers of babes had been ogled, but he had studied from time to time, and he had spent occasional evenings hanging out, watching movies and talking to friends.

"I see why it was cancelled," Ziva said after they'd finished watching the last episode. Tony's eyes widened, and he prepared for an explosion.

"What do you mean?" Abby demanded.

"Yeah, I thought you liked it," McGee said.

Ziva glanced over at Tony as if waiting for his outraged response. "I said the same thing," he replied, encountering glares from Abby and McGee. "Let's see if you have the same reason."

Ziva shrugged. "Your American television does not seem to mind depressing shows if they are set now or even in the past, but the shows about the future that work are bright and happy." She gestured towards the TV. "This show is far too realistic about the ways people behave to succeed."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "You got a lot more out of that film class than I knew," he said.

Ziva smiled mysteriously. "Who says I learned any of that from film class?" she replied.

"You don't watch that much television," Tony pointed out.

"What was your reason?"

"Same thing. In Star Trek, everyone on the side of the good guys is happy and rich, it's just where the bad guys hold sway that everyone's poor. I think the last one, _Enterprise_ , wasn't like that, but it didn't last very long."

"It lasted longer than the first one," McGee pointed out.

"The first one was the first real SciFi TV show ever, McGee. That it lasted three seasons is a big deal. _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ lasted longer than _Enterprise_."

"Hey now, _Buffy_ 's a good show," Abby said defensively.

"On par with _Star Trek_?" Tony asked innocently, and then he sat back to watch the show.

"Well, sure, in its own way," Abby said.

"What?" McGee exclaimed.

As they proceeded to argue, Ziva came and sat down next to Tony. "That was cruel," she said.

"How? They get to have an enjoyable discussion, and we get to watch. I don't see the problem."

"You must be feeling better if you are up to causing trouble."

Tony shrugged. "I have my moments."

"How are the bruises?"

"I haven't shaved for a reason," Tony replied, rubbing his beard. "I'm going to have to soon, or it will drive me buggy."

"Your arms, though, and elsewhere?"

"The bright colors are fading," Tony said. The more she asked, the more tense he got, but he knew she wasn't asking out of morbid curiosity. "Have you seen McGee's bruise lately?"

"I have not, but he stopped favoring his side last week."

Tony's cell phone rang and he reached over to grab it. He opened it instantly upon seeing who the caller was. "Gibbs, I forgot I had that appointment today. I –"

"You've still got time," Gibbs said. "I'm outside."

"But I haven't cleaned up!" Tony protested.

"Should've thought of that earlier," Gibbs replied, and Tony heard the honk through the phone and through the door.

Tony shut his phone and scrambled to his feet. "Gotta go, guys. I have a doctor's appointment in –" He blinked as he looked at the front of the phone. "Ten minutes ago. Gibbs must have rescheduled it." He hurried out, waving abstractedly at the others when they said good bye.


	25. Chapter 25

Gibbs watched Tony hurry across the parking lot of Ziva's building, glad to see him moving so freely. He opened the door of the truck and climbed in. "Sorry, Boss, I lost track of time."

"Everyone else still there?" Gibbs asked.

DiNozzo nodded. "I had just incited an argument between Abby and McGee, in fact." Gibbs snorted. No doubt it had been about some goofy movie or TV show. "You should have just reminded me. I could have gotten a ride from one of the others."

"Touching though your interest is, I can manage my love life, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, amused as well as impatient.

DiNozzo flushed and sagged in his seat. He didn't say anything, so Gibbs couldn't be sure what he was thinking, which sharply limited his ability to respond. They went the rest of the way to Bethesda in silence.

"You coming in with me?" DiNozzo asked.

"Well, I'm not waiting in the truck," Gibbs replied, then winced internally when he heard how bad tempered the answer had sounded. After a moment, he said, "I had intended to come in with you, that's part of why I didn't just remind you."

The look DiNozzo shot him was difficult to read, but he didn't seem displeased. The silence that reigned while he parked and they walked up to the building didn't have the same quality as that which had followed his poorly chosen words earlier. DiNozzo was unusually sensitive right now, and it seemed Gibbs himself was getting less patient. He'd have to keep an eye on himself so he didn't give DiNozzo more than he could handle.

When the nurse called DiNozzo in, she looked askance at Gibbs when he accompanied his man into the examination room. The doctor, his badge said Howard Marsh, looked at the pair of them and turned to DiNozzo. "You know I've got some fairly private information to pass along to you today, right?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "He'll get it all later, anyway," he said. "You've got the form you have to fill out before I go back to work, right?" Dr. Marsh nodded. "He's the one who gets it."

"I see." He still seemed a little perturbed, but he gave DiNozzo a gown to change into for the examination and left. DiNozzo started stripping down, and Gibbs looked away. Then he heard DiNozzo shinnying up onto the table and turned back around.

"Your legs are looking better," he said.

DiNozzo straightened his right leg. "They are, aren't they?" he said. "My arms are taking longer, but they had a lot more . . ." He flushed a little. "Layers. They had layers."

Gibbs looked at the marks on DiNozzo's upper arms and nodded. "But the cuts on your wrists . . ."

"All but healed." DiNozzo said, lifting a hand and twisting it to look at the wrist. "Unless the doctor says otherwise, I plan on coming in to the office on Monday. Even if I can't do fieldwork, I can do desk work."

Before Gibbs could respond to that outrageous remark, Dr. Marsh came back in. "All right, Tony, first, your blood tests show no signs of any STDs, though you'll want to avoid unprotected sex regardless. The AIDS tests aren't –"

"Right," DiNozzo said, and he bit his lip, glancing at Gibbs. Apparently he hadn't realized what Marsh had meant abut private information. He probably didn't know that Gibbs had already had a report from Fornell on a complete lack of condoms among Harris' belongings. No wrappers, no used ones in the trash, no unused ones in the bags. Not a sign.

Marsh broke off and nodded. "If you have any questions about that, you can always call me later, but you will need to come in for periodic tests. We'll set up a schedule for you." DiNozzo nodded. "Now, let's get a look at you."

Gibbs turned away when it was appropriate, but he didn't want DiNozzo glossing over anything as he'd been known to do in the past. Gibbs knew all about that. All too much, in truth.

"Everything seems to be healing as it should be," Dr. Marsh said finally, "and there don't seem to be any signs of infection. Very good."

"So, when can I go back to work?" DiNozzo asked.

Marsh's eyes widened. "Well, I suppose you could go back to light duty on Monday, but anything more energetic than typing and light filing will have to wait."

"We don't have light duty at NCIS," Gibbs said.

DiNozzo turned a betrayed look on him. "Boss!" he exclaimed.

"When have you ever heard of a federal agent doing light duty?" Gibbs asked Dr. Marsh.

"I work a fair amount with the FBI," Marsh said.

"We're not the FBI," Gibbs replied.

"But Boss, I know Jenny's been trying to get you to come back in, and I could stay stuck in the office. I'd do database searches and stuff."

"DiNozzo –" Gibbs started, but DiNozzo's eyes were eloquent.

"I can't spend another week sitting there watching you scrape your boat," he said.

"Well, I'm submitting the form as I see it, Tony, and you can work things out with your supervisor at your leisure," Dr. Marsh said.

"Thanks," Tony said. "Was there anything else?"

"No, you can go ahead and get dressed and make an appointment for next week."

Tony nodded and Gibbs watched Marsh leave. "You don't want me back at work?" DiNozzo asked, and Gibbs heard more in the question than a simple request for information. None of the things he could think of to say sounded right, and as he ran possible responses through his mind, DiNozzo started drooping. He could not afford to get the answer to this question wrong, and words weren't going to cut it. He stood up, walked over and gave DiNozzo a solid smack on the back of the head. The younger man winced, but he grinned, clearly relieved. "Thanks, Boss," he said.

"If you have problems, you let me know," Gibbs said. "Whatever they are." DiNozzo nodded. It was a promise too easily made, and Gibbs knew that DiNozzo would tell him nothing short of murder attempts, damn the man. "But you need to shave. You look too scruffy for my team."

DiNozzo's grin broadened. "Sure, Boss, when we get back to your place."

Gibbs nodded. DiNozzo got dressed and made his appointment for his next blood test, and they headed out to the truck. Gibbs cleared his throat. There was more information that DiNozzo needed, but Gibbs wasn't sure how he would react. "Fornell has released your place."

Tony stopped moving for a second, then he continued. "I suppose I could go back and stay there," he said.

"No, you can't. I want you under my eye for a little longer," Gibbs replied. The tension left DiNozzo's shoulders. "But if you're serious about getting rid of your furniture, you could get that process moving if you wanted to. And if there's anything you need, we could swing by."

Tony shook his head. "I . . . I'm good, actually. Next week's soon enough."

Gibbs nodded. He wasn't exactly surprised. Most men wouldn't be relieved by their boss declaring that he wanted them under his eye. If that thought still made DiNozzo feel better, going back to his place was going to take longer than a week. "I could have someone swing by and pick up your answering machine if you need your messages."

DiNozzo shrugged. "I should be able to pick them up remotely, but I forgot the password."

"I'll have McGee go by for you."

"Sounds good," DiNozzo said indifferently.

Gibbs grimaced, but he made the call, watching DiNozzo look out the truck window with some concern. While DiNozzo was still so apathetic about so many things, it was hard to imagine he could be effective at work. Once they'd reached the house, DiNozzo went up the stairs to take a shower. Gibbs headed downstairs to the basement to get some more work done. He could hear the pipes down here, so he could easily monitor the length of DiNozzo's showers.

McGee arrived before the water stopped. He came straight down to the basement and looked around. "Where's Tony?"

"Showering," Gibbs said. "Bring that over here." McGee brought the answering machine over and put it on Gibbs' workbench.

"My guess is that the FBI already listened to it," McGee said. "There were only four new messages when I unplugged it."

Looking at the arcane device with its minimally labeled buttons and lights, Gibbs gestured with his chin. "Show me how it works."

McGee looked at him. "But Tony knows how it works."

Gibbs raised his eyes to McGee's face. "No doubt," he said, and then he waited.

After several uncomfortable moments, McGee gave him a brief demonstration that was largely devoid of thirty-cent words, and Gibbs was reasonably sure that he could manage on his own. During the explanation, the water shut off, signaling the end of Tony's shower. "Okay, McGee, go on upstairs and wait for Tony and keep him occupied. Get him to start making lunch or something. I don't want either of you coming back down here."

"Boss, what –" One look made McGee close his mouth and nod. "Yes, Boss," he said, and, still looking uneasy, he hurried up the stairs.

Gibbs pressed the button to start the messages playing. It started with new messages, played in the order received. The first was a message from a credit card company asking DiNozzo to call back to 'hear something to his advantage.' Gibbs skipped it and the next message started. It was from Wednesday and the male caller didn't identify himself. He rambled for a while about bastard feds who smeared the names of decent cops, but it was neither interesting nor particularly actionable. He'd see that Fornell got it anyway, along with the complaints he'd already filed against the three officers who'd invaded his house. The next message had come in Friday morning. Gibbs almost skipped it, but some instinct made him listen.

"Anthony, this is your father. This morning I received a call to inform me that you've been having an illicit homosexual affair with another police officer, and that you are now accusing this man of rape. I can't believe that you've dragged our name even deeper in the mud. If you must engage in such disgusting activities, you could at least have the decency to keep it discreet even when things go wrong. Do not call to explain, I don't want to hear it, and I don't want you troubling Joyce with it either. Whatever has happened to you is your own fault for getting involved with that type, and you should have known better. Remember, you are my son, and that gives you certain responsibilities, and avoiding scandal is one of those. Thus far, I haven't heard any gossip about this disgraceful situation, and I expect you to see to it that I don't. I hope you will think before you act in the future." The phone made no noise as DiNozzo senior hung up, and, while angry, DiNozzo's father's voice had remained calm and cold. Gibbs had no trouble believing that he didn't give a damn about what had happened to his son. Gibbs was going to have to call him, though, to find out who his unidentified informant was.

The fourth new message was from Friday afternoon, and it was a reminder call for the appointment at Bethesda that DiNozzo had missed this morning. After that, the old messages began to play. There was one from Abby that he skipped, two from Joyce from before the abduction, and he skipped those, too. No messages from Harris, but that wasn't surprising. By the time he'd started making phone calls, he knew DiNozzo was no longer staying at home. All in all, given the content of the messages that the FBI had actually listened to, it was no wonder that they hadn't kept the machine. And, all in all, he was just as glad that they hadn't heard the message from DiNozzo's father.

Footsteps on the staircase made him look up. DiNozzo was coming down alone. His newly shaven face showed no sign of bruises. "I got McGee to explain why he was being so jumpy," he said, giving Gibbs a glare. "You hear anything juicy?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Wanted to make sure things got handled," he said mildly.

DiNozzo seemed to lose steam as he approached the bench. "Is there anything from . . . from him?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Not a word." For a moment, DiNozzo stared at the machine, and Gibbs contemplated him. "You want to hear?" DiNozzo shrugged and leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. Gibbs took that for assent and pressed the button. The messages started playing, oldest first, and DiNozzo looked up.

"That one you can delete. I heard it." Gibbs pressed the relevant button and the machine skipped to the next message. The next two were from Joyce, and DiNozzo told him to delete them both. They went through the next several messages without speech. All were apparently unheard by DiNozzo, but none of them amounted to much. Gibbs had skipped them. After the credit card call, which DiNozzo instructed him to delete, Gibbs hit stop. "The next two are simple harassment and the last one is a message from Bethesda about the appointment you missed this morning."

"I thought I gave them my cell phone," Tony said.

"You didn't have your new cell phone when you left Bethesda," Gibbs replied, and DiNozzo blinked.

"Tony?" McGee called. "I think the pasta's done."

DiNozzo bowed slightly and gestured towards the stairs. "After you, _el jefe_."


	26. Chapter 26

Tony thought it was more than possible that Gibbs would have tried to keep him home for another few days, but he had the bright idea of asking Dr. Marsh to fax his report to Director Shepard.  Gibbs wasn’t thrilled when he got the call, but they were at the Navy Yard bright and early Monday morning.  Ziva and McGee seemed happier to see him than Kate and McGee had after his bout with plague, so that made for a pleasant return.  He was aware, however, of lots of eyes on him.

He didn’t know what McGee and Ziva were working on, but he had e-mails aplenty, and several responses to queries he’d made regarding the cold cases he’d been reviewing before Gibbs had started asking questions.

“Does anyone know where my notes from the interview at Basset, Price, Lozano wound up?” Tony asked, looking over his desk.

“Oh, I’ve got them over here,” McGee said, standing up and bringing his backpack over to him.  “All your stuff, actually, including your wallet.”

Tony blinked at him.  He hadn’t realized that he’d been without his wallet for a week.  Very weird.  He settled down with his notebook and started looking for former Gunnery Sergeant Miles Parker.  After all, work still needed to be done.  Murderers still needed to be caught.  And people really didn’t need to look at him quite this much, did they?

He glanced up as Agent Lee walked by, and she smiled at him nervously.  “It’s good to have you back, Agent DiNozzo,” she said.

“Thanks,” Tony said uneasily.  “It’s good to be back.”  She nodded and moved away.  Tony kept working, but an unusual number of people seemed to have a reason to pass this portion of the office today.  He tried not to feel like a display with a placard reading ‘rape victim.’

* * *

Gibbs glanced at Cynthia as he headed towards Jenny’s door, raising his eyebrows and not slowing down.  “You can go in, Agent Gibbs.  She’s expecting you.”

He nodded, amused by Jenny’s perception.  He walked into the office.  Jenny looked up with a smile.  “How’s DiNozzo?” she asked.

“We’ll see,” he said.  “I’ve got some messages I need to pass on to the FBI, but I thought you’d better hear them first.”

Her brows went up.  “Messages?”

“From DiNozzo’s answering machine.”  He held up the digital recording device he’d had McGee dump the messages to and pressed the button.  The angry cop’s voice filled the room and Jenny listened closely.  He paused the playback when it was done.

“Not particularly creative nor stunning in its accuracy,” she said.  “I take it there’s something else?”  Gibbs nodded and pressed the button again.  DiNozzo senior’s cultivated accents issued forth and Gibbs watched her eyes go from puzzled to astonished to outraged to saddened.  “That’s what he grew up with?” she asked.

“That’s why he doesn’t want his father informed when bad things happen to him.  So that I don’t murder the man, I’m going to have Fornell look into who called him.”  Her brows went up.  “It’s harassment, and that kind of leak needs to be dealt with.”

“I’m surprised you’re not going to call him yourself.”

“Next week, when I’ve stopped contemplating the astonishing number of different ways Abby could help me dispose of the body.”

Jenny blinked.  “No doubt very cheerfully, after hearing that,” she added.

He chuckled grimly.  “No doubt.  She hasn’t heard this.  No one has besides me, you and McGee.”

“DiNozzo hasn’t?”

“He hasn’t heard either message.  He doesn’t need this kind of harassment.”

“You’ve held back the message from his father?”  He nodded.  “Don’t you think that’s kind of presumptuous?”

“It’s harassment, Jenny.  You don’t subject a victim to harassment, no matter who it’s from.”  She looked troubled.  “If he wasn’t a federal agent, and we had a victim of the same crime here and his father spouting such virulent crap, we wouldn’t let him in to see his son, would we?”  She bit her lip. “It’s the same thing.”

“I suppose,” she said.

“I know it is, Jenny, and I know what would happen if DiNozzo heard that.  He already blames himself, he doesn’t need his father telling him he’s right.”

“Is that why you didn’t want him coming back in?” she asked.  “You were worried about influences?”  Gibbs pursed his lips.  The true answer could keep DiNozzo out of the field for a long time, but the easy answer could be dangerously false.  “DiNozzo’s a strong man,” she said.  “He’s not going to let some idiot’s words affect him that readily.  His father maybe, a parent’s words carry more weight in our minds, but no jerkwad cop who doesn’t have the whole truth is going to convince him.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.  “Even if he’s halfway convinced himself?”

Her eyes darkened with thought.  “I’ll make an appointment to get him checked out tomorrow,” she said, and Gibbs grimaced.  “Is there anything else?”

“I don’t believe so.”

She nodded and clearly meant it as dismissal.  He turned to go.  “Oh, and Jethro?”  He turned back.  “If you do get called out on a case, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

His jaw set, but he simply nodded and went back down to his desk.  DiNozzo was absorbed in something on the computer, McGee was watching him a little too closely, and an astonishing number of people seemed to feel the need to wander by DiNozzo’s desk.

The day passed quietly.  A couple of people came by to ask for the insight Jenny had said was needed, but he couldn’t help wondering if they were just checking up on DiNozzo and Gibbs himself.  He received two e-mails from high level agents who were looking for transfers onto his team.  He always received a few of those each year, but two at once suggested that people thought Gibbs might be looking.  It irritated him.  He responded politely to both men and told them that his team didn’t need any new members at this time.  Glancing up at DiNozzo, he hoped he wouldn’t have to change that stance.  An experience like this one could send DiNozzo looking for a new place to be.  He’d stayed here seven years, which was more than triple his previous record, and if things didn’t settle down here swiftly, it might just spur him to move on again.

“Oh, man!” DiNozzo said suddenly.

“What is it, Tony?” Ziva asked, and Gibbs saw McGee bite back on the same question.

“I have a headshrinker appointment tomorrow at ten.  I guess they think my head’s too big.”

The other two seemed a little taken aback by the announcement, but Gibbs grinned.  “Are they wrong?” he asked.

DiNozzo looked up in surprise, but he saw the humor in Gibbs’ expression and shrugged.  “If I don’t believe in false modesty, who can fault me for that?”  Gibbs shrugged.  DiNozzo picked up a piece of paper off the printer and turned around.  “So, Boss, I’ve got a photo of our suspect here, someone needs to get it in front of Midshipman McCormick so we can find out if he’s the man she saw.”

“You’ve got a photo lineup ready?” Gibbs asked.  DiNozzo nodded.  “Ziva, take McGee and check it out,” Gibbs said, and DiNozzo, his dismay at not going himself almost suppressed, held out the paper to Ziva.

Ziva took it with a sympathetic smile and carried McGee off on the assignment.  DiNozzo kept working quietly, not broadcasting his distress that he wasn’t going himself to speak with the girl.  Gibbs was proud of his stoicism, but DiNozzo was behaving like he was working his usual midnight shift.  He wasn’t talking, he wasn’t making stupid jokes or random movie references.  He was simply sitting at his desk and working hard.  There was nothing wrong with that, but it wasn’t very like DiNozzo.

Ziva and McGee came back with confirmation that Parker was the man Diane McCormick had seen kill her father.  DiNozzo’s reaction was unexpectedly muted.  All of the advancement they’d made on that case over the last two weeks had been due to DiNozzo’s own thinking, his own work.  He should be singing from the rooftops about his brilliance, or at least he would ordinarily be.  Instead he accepted the information and returned to his database searches.  Both Ziva and McGee looked at Gibbs with mild alarm, but Gibbs didn’t want to make too much of the reaction.  Time would tell.

* * *

The FBI showed up early the next morning and bundled Gibbs off into an interrogation room to give a statement regarding Carvaggio and company.  No doubt Tony was next.  He wasn’t looking forward to it.  If it had been left to him, he would have left it alone, but Gibbs wasn’t going for that.

Tony had been seriously considering getting a room in a hotel, but a ‘chance’ comment from Gibbs revealed that Holly was out of town on work again, removing the necessity.  He hated the thought that he might be cramping his boss’ love life.  Someone ought to get some fun, even if it wasn’t Tony DiNozzo.

Ziva was off giving a class on self defense for female agents that Jenny had dreamed up.  It was a great idea, and Tony wished he got to watch, but it made the bullpen feel a little empty with Tim downstairs working with Abby on some upgrades to her computer.  Upgrades in geekspeak made his head hurt.

He’d done all he could think of for the moment on finding Miles Parker.  A couple of his searches were going to take a while, so he started doodling on his computer.  He’d had no opportunity to do that for days.  He flipped through some websites and started looking for apartments.  He’d have to find somewhere to live sooner or later.  A change of scene might be good for him.

“What are you doing?”

Tony jumped.  The voice was loud, it was right behind him, and he’d had no idea McGee had even come back upstairs.  Hastily minimizing the website, he turned around and glared at the probie.  “What are _you_ doing, sneaking around like Gibbs or something?”

“I wasn’t sneaking, Tony,” McGee said, his brows drawn together.  He reached forward, greatly daring, and brought the website back up.  “Why are you looking for apartments in San Francisco, Tony?” he asked.

Tony smacked his hand and minimized the website again, glaring up at him.  “Just looking,” he replied.

When McGee turned around, Tony was relieved.  He was not prepared to have a heart to heart with McGee right now.  His shrink appointment was in an hour and he didn’t need to go through the same crap twice.  Unfortunately, he was too quick to assume.  McGee grabbed his chair and rolled it over, sitting down at the corner of Tony’s desk.  “Tony, are you thinking of quitting?” he asked earnestly.  Tony opened his mouth to utter a casual denial, but something in his expression must have given him away, because McGee’s eyes widened.  “You are!” he exclaimed in a throttled voice.  “Tony, why would you do that?”

At least McGee was keeping his voice down, but Tony wished he’d shut up altogether.  “Why wouldn’t I?” Tony asked irritably, hoping that would end the conversation.  Sometimes being brutal and incomplete would shut McGee down.  He’d walk away looking all hurt and vulnerable, and Tony might feel like a jerk, but he would stop talking.

Not so this time.  “Because you love this job!” McGee said, and Tony grimaced, looking away.  “Because you’re good at this job and . . . and Gibbs wouldn’t want you to go.”

Tony swallowed with difficulty.  “Do you know how many shitty messages I’ve been getting on my voicemail from cops?” he asked, turning towards McGee.

McGee shook his head.  “Does Gibbs know?”

“No,” Tony snapped.  “The last thing I need is for Gibbs to make a federal case – literally – out of a bunch of idiots blowing off steam.  It’s already going to be hard enough to work with them if we have any cases that run tandem without him registering complaints against every guy who feels the need to shout at me.”  He shook his head.  “All that could possibly stop them would be to convince them of what really happened, and I don’t really want all of DC Metro knowing that.”

“Tony, you can’t let the idiots get away with it,” McGee said.  “They don’t have any right to harass you.  You’re the victim and –”

“Don’t you _ever_ call me a victim again,” Tony snarled, and McGee leaned back with surprise, alarm on his face.  “I was an idiot and a dupe, but I was not a victim.”

A few seconds of tense silence stretched into a few moments, and then Gibbs came into the bullpen with Fornell.  “DiNozzo, your turn.”

Tony looked up, wishing like hell he had a better excuse to refuse this interview.  Not that he didn’t want to get the hell away from McGee at this moment, but he didn’t want to talk to Fornell about three cops trying to arrest him for murder.  He cleared his throat.  “You know I have that appointment in –”

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss your appointment, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, and Tony stood up, pushed past McGee, who hadn’t moved yet, and followed Fornell down to interrogation.  Boy, but Tuesdays were shaping up to be crap.


	27. Chapter 27

Gibbs sat down at his desk and waited for McGee to unbutton about whatever was troubling him.  He’d interrupted a very tense moment between McGee and DiNozzo, and if he knew McGee, he wouldn’t be able to keep silent for long.  “Boss?” McGee said.

“Yeah?”

“Tony’s been receiving harassing calls on his voicemail and not reporting them.”

Gibbs’ brows went up.  That didn’t surprise him, but alone it didn’t account for McGee’s agitation.  “I see.  Did he explain why?”

McGee bit his lip.  “He says that raising a stink about everyone who wants to call and shout at him isn’t going to make working with DC Metro any easier.”

Gibbs considered this briefly, then shrugged.  “Can you find those voicemails?”

“I suspect Tony deleted them, Boss.”

“Can you retrieve them?”

“I can try.”  McGee didn’t immediately move to doing that, so Gibbs raised his eyebrows again.  “Um . . . maybe you should look at this,” McGee said, walking over to Tony’s computer and calling up a window.  Since McGee had never been one for telling tales, Gibbs assumed it wasn’t a game or the Hooters website.  He walked over slowly and blinked at the screen.  San Francisco.  It was a bigger move than DiNozzo had ever made before, but this might just be a bigger reason for a move.  “I asked him why he’d want to quit," McGee said, "and that’s when he told me about the voicemails.”

Gibbs nodded, then walked back to his desk, contemplating what to do with the information.  Tony wouldn’t react well to being crowded, so confrontation wasn’t his best bet.  McGee had returned to his desk.  “So, you were getting me access to those voicemails,” Gibbs prompted after a few moments.

“On it, Boss.”

Gibbs nodded and went to work on his report on the mission to rescue DiNozzo.

* * *

Holly slowed curiously as she approached the front doors to NCIS.  Agent DiNozzo stood a few feet out from and to the side of the entrance, alone, apparently staring off into the distance, his hands dug deep into his pockets.  His expression was mostly blank, but the darkness in his eyes suggested that his head wasn’t a fun place to be at the moment.  He didn’t seem to register her approach, which struck her as odd.  She was wearing a dress and heels, and DiNozzo wasn’t one to miss an attractive woman.  Furthermore, he was usually fairly observant, but she wasn’t sure anyone who passed him was making much of an impression.

Her goal was to take Jethro to a surprise lunch, though she wasn’t honestly sure that dog would hunt.  Jethro was notoriously single-minded, and if lunch wasn’t built into his day’s plans, he might simply refuse to go.

On the other hand, DiNozzo was looking a bit like a lost lamb.  She walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.  She could feel the sudden increase in tension, and he turned with wide eyes.  “Holly.  Hi.”

“Hi, Tony.  What’s up?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head.  “I should be getting back to work,” he said, but he made no move to do so.

“It’s quarter after twelve,” Holly said, abandoning her initial plans without a backward glance.  “We could go to lunch.  My treat.”

DiNozzo seemed to be trapped in some kind of inner turmoil.  He considered her offer with a great deal more sober thought than it merited.  “Sounds good,” he said finally.  “But it’s my treat.  I owe you.”

She almost protested that he didn’t owe her anything, but abruptly thought better of it.  It was a way for him to take control, and she suspected he needed that right now.  Threading her arm through his, she said, “Anywhere in particular?”

The gesture seemed to hearten him, and he smiled down at her, a fraction of his usual charm shining through.  “The Hard Rock Cafe?” he suggested.

“Sure.  My car or yours?”

“I love it when a woman drives,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows and led the way towards her car.  Internally, she was annoyed with herself for not remembering that he’d probably come in with Gibbs and so didn’t have his own car, and amused by the resurgence of his flirtation.  “You just can’t watch the girl when you’re driving,” she said, keeping things light.

“You see through me all too easily, Holly,” he said with a grin.

Gradually, over the course of appetizers, DiNozzo relaxed to near normal levels.  He vanished to the bathroom after they’d had cheese sticks and jalapeno poppers, and she pulled out her cell phone.  Gibbs was number three on her speed dial.  He answered instantly.  “Gibbs.”  He sounded vaguely harried.

“Hello, Jethro,” she said.  “Not sure if you’ve missed him yet, but I’ve carried your senior field agent away with me.”

“DiNozzo’s with you?” Gibbs asked urgently, and she knew instantly that he’d been looking for the boy.

“He’s taking me to lunch,” she said, trying to infuse her voice with her concern so he’d understand what she didn’t feel comfortable saying when DiNozzo could walk up at any moment.

“Good.”  There were layers of meaning in his voice as well.  “When do you think you’ll be back?”

“We just finished appetizers.  Give us another hour?”

“See you then,” he said, and she heard the phone snap shut.

DiNozzo came back and they talked about nothing much until the food arrived.  “So, I thought you were out of town,” DiNozzo said suddenly.

She sensed an unexpected level of suspicion from him and raised an eyebrow.  “I was.  I went to Fort Bragg to wrap up some of the details of the case I’ve been working.  I got back this morning.”

“Does Gibbs know?” DiNozzo asked, his brows knitting.

He does now, she thought, but she smiled.  “He knows,” she said simply.

He blinked at her, and she could see the wheels turning.  “So, I don’t guess you showed up at NCIS, all dolled up, to take me out to lunch,” he said.

She could wish him less incisive at moments like this.  “It was not my original intention, no,” she replied.  “What led to you standing outside the front doors of the building like that?”

DiNozzo’s expression went shuttered.  “I needed some air,” he mumbled.

“You didn’t seem to be gaining much benefit from it,” she observed, and he looked up to meet her eyes.  She could see some of the darkness she’d seen earlier lurking there again.  “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Nothing?” she repeated, keeping her tone mild but letting her disbelief be heard.

He grimaced.  “I had to talk to the FBI today about that stupid incident with Carvaggio,” he said.  “Followed by a charming visit to a shrink who seems to think I’m a basket case.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He spent the last five minutes of the visit assuring me that nothing that happened to me was my fault.”

“Do you think it was your fault?” she asked neutrally.

He didn’t answer right away, and she studied him covertly.  He seemed to be giving his answer some thought.  “Sometimes,” he said.  “Sometimes not.  And some things seem like they’re more my fault than others.”  He shook his head.  “I let it happen for almost two months before I even tried to stop it, and even then it was more because I was angry with him for being an idiot over Abby than anything to do with me.”  He shrugged.  “No, I didn’t like being hit, but . . .”  He looked down at the plate.  “Don’t tell Gibbs, but I’m not sure how I would have reacted if he could have found a reason for hitting me that would have made sense to me.”

That was an interesting admission.  “Why don’t you want to tell Gibbs?” she asked.

“It’s humiliating to think that I . . . I mean, I kept putting off the . . .”  The usually glib DiNozzo didn’t seem to be able to answer smoothly.  “I thought I didn’t fight back hard enough,” he said finally, “which made everything that happened my fault and not his.  I know better than that.  I would never buy that if it was Abby or Ziva, or even McGee.  What’s wrong with me?”

Holly considered the question carefully.  “In what other ways do you think differently about yourself and, say, McGee?” she asked, and a medley of emotions chased across his face, but he didn’t respond.  Evidently she’d struck a nerve with the question.

“What do you know about McGee?” Tony asked.

She tilted her head.  “He’s a computer expert, has some coursework in biochemistry.”  Pausing, she shrugged.  “He’s very young,”  she added, and DiNozzo snorted agreement.  “He wrote a novel in which your whole team is portrayed in a less than flattering light under a thin veil of fiction.”

Tony snorted.  “True enough, but you left a few things out.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that he’s a total dweeb,” Tony said, and she raised her eyebrows.  He flushed slightly and gave his real answer.  “And the fact that he has a sister and parents and other family who give a damn about him.”

“And you don’t?”

“Well, no siblings.  One of my nannies once suggested that my mother had gotten a hysterectomy to avoid having another child like me.”  Holly’s jaw dropped.  She was appalled by the notion that anyone would say something like that to a child.  “In her defense, I was being particularly unpleasant that . . .”  He trailed off, and snorted again.  “That year, actually.  Though she was only there for three months.”

“Your parents objected to the way she spoke to you?” Holly hazarded.

“Not so much,” Tony said with a bitter laugh.  “She complained to my father about my behavior, asking him to punish me.  He informed her that was her job, but that she wasn’t allowed to lay a hand on me.  She quit and I didn’t have a nanny for a couple of weeks.”  He grinned, looking nostalgic.  “That was a good two weeks.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.  My mom died when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

DiNozzo shrugged, but there was pain in his eyes when he spoke.  “I really never knew what I was missing till long after.  I stayed with a friend a lot in high school, and his family was way more normal.  Michael’s mother was motherly.  Mine never was.”

“Wait, are you saying that nanny said that to you after your mother had died?”

Tony shrugged.  “It was a source of college money for her, not something she believed in.  I didn’t have many more after that anyway.  I was at boarding school most of the time, so there wasn’t much need.”

“None of your stepmothers were motherly?”

“I think it’s thanks to the first one that I wound up in boarding school,” Tony said with a snort.  He shook his head self-deprecatingly.  “I was an angry kid, not much fun to deal with, and she didn’t want to be bothered with a kid half her age.”

Holly gazed at him thoughtfully.  “Why do you do that?” she asked after a moment.

“Do what?” DiNozzo asked.

“Make excuses for people who treat you poorly?”

Tony blinked at her.  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, but she could see a lurking alarm in his eyes.  “It’s good to have all the facts, right?”

“Everything I’ve heard so far makes you out to be at fault,” Holly remarked.  “Even when those cops came over and tried to arrest you, as soon as Jethro started talking about filing complaints, you started making excuses for them.”

“I did not,” Tony protested, but she shook her head.

“Tony, this is me you’re talking to.”  He flushed.  “I was there.”

“They don’t know the truth about what happened,” Tony said.  “I’d be angry, too, under similar circumstances.”

“But I very much doubt you’d corner a man you’d been told wasn’t well enough to return to work and try to carry him off to the precinct to intimidate him.”

Tony shrugged.  “Not unless I was sure he was guilty,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m certain you wouldn’t manufacture an excuse to arrest him,” she added, and was pleased to have him look up with grateful eyes.

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” he said.  Shaking his head, he sighed.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand impulsively.  “Your early training didn’t teach you to value yourself,” she said.  “That’s all.  It’s a hard one to overcome.”

DiNozzo’s jaw dropped.  He stared at her silently for a moment, then shook his head.  “I think that may be the first and only time I’ve ever heard that suggestion made,” he said.  She raised her eyebrows.  “Ask anyone.  I think too highly of myself.”

“You overcompensate,” she said, and again she could tell she’d struck a blow.  He knew this, somewhere in his mind that he didn’t let himself see very often.  “I know it doesn’t help much, but I can tell you that your colleagues value you.  Certainly Gibbs does.”

Tony sat back in his chair.  “That’s one of the things that . . .”  He trailed off.  “He lets me get away with crazy behavior and screw ups I know he wouldn’t tolerate in anyone else.  I’ve never quite figured out why.”

She shook her head.  “Because he knows your value, Tony.  Because he cares about you, and he knows what you’re capable of.”

He seemed a little overwhelmed by this assessment.  She looked down at her plate.  “Well, I need to use the ladies room, so if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll be back shortly.”  He nodded, smiling abstractedly up at her.  She put a comforting hand on his shoulder as she passed.  He could probably use some space to absorb what she’d said.


	28. Chapter 28

Tony didn’t know what to think.  Holly had said a lot of things that made sense, but parts of him were struggling against those of her words that flew in the face of things he’d believed for a long, long time.  Letting it go as too much to handle just now, he looked at his watch.  It was past one, and Gibbs would be frothing at the mouth by now, whatever Holly might say.  Gesturing for Connie, their waitress, to come over, he asked for the check.  He picked at his french fries and tried not to think too hard while he waited both for the check and for Holly.  It had been a full day, and his mind felt like it was going to explode.

“Tony?”

Tony looked up, startled, into the eyes of Andrea Sparr.  Her badge wasn’t visible today, so he wondered if she was off duty.  Off duty cop had a whole new meaning for him now, but he pushed that aside and smiled up at her.  “Hi,” he said, wondering what she knew, if she was angry, and how she was going to handle it if she was.  They hadn’t dated even after the fake radar theft case was over, and he knew she wondered why.  He’d certainly made his interest obvious enough, and she was unbelievably hot.

“Are you okay?” she asked.  “I’d heard you had a run in with Brody Harris.”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, more than a little perplexed.  “Where did you hear that?”

She rolled her eyes and sat down at the adjacent, empty table.  “Actually, what I heard was that you had screwed Brody Harris over, and that you were a jerk of the first water, but I know you, and I’ve known a few too many rookies who got on the wrong side of Harris to buy that line of bullshit.”

“Rookies?” Tony repeated, not sure what she meant.  There hadn’t been any complaints.

“Yeah, he’s damned hard on rookies that don’t meet his standards, and his standards are pretty exacting.”

“Were,” Tony said automatically, and she blinked at him.  “He’s dead.”

She blinked at him “How did he die?”

Tony grimaced.  “That’s part of an ongoing investigation by the FBI, and I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.”

Her eyes widened.  “That sounds kind of serious.  Are you in any trouble?”

Tony shook his head, feeling a little surreal.  “No, I’m not.  Brody . . .”  He shook his head again.  “I’m probably not supposed to talk much about what happened, like I said, but maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Holly walked just as he finished speaking, and she looked enquiringly at Andrea.  “Holly, this is Detective Andrea Sparr, Metro PD.”  Holly’s back straightened and she looked at Andrea suspiciously.  “Andrea, this is Colonel Hollis Mann, Army CID.”

Andrea rose to shake Holly’s hand, and Tony could tell that Holly was trying to decide how to treat this member of Metro PD.  Before anyone could speak into the awkward silence, Holly’s phone rang.  She moved off a little and answered.  “New girlfriend?” Andrea asked neutrally.

“No!” Tony exclaimed, startled by the question.  “God, no.  Don’t even say that.  She’s Gibbs’ girlfriend.”

“Your boss?” Andrea asked.

Tony nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Well, I should get going,” Andrea said.  “It looks like my friends are here.”  Tony glanced over towards the door where she was pointing and saw a gathering of women about Andrea’s age.  “You want to meet them?” she asked.

A year ago, he would have risen, crossed the room, and flirted outrageously with every last one of them.  Now, the entire idea made him weary.  “I need to get back to work,” he said with a smile.

Andrea gazed at him for a moment.  “Hang in there, Tony,” she said.  “Some of the guys are bound to be jerks for a while, but I know you can handle that.”

Tony watched her move away, then Connie delivered the check.  He stuck his credit card in the notch and handed it back, then looked up to find that Holly had settled back in her chair.  “I believe you told Gibbs you didn’t have friends in that department,” she said.

“I didn’t expect that,” Tony said, looking over where Andrea was being seated with her group.  “If anything, I’d have expected her to lead the lynching party.”

“Why?”

Tony shrugged.  The only answer he had sounded kind of self-centered.  “Gibbs has no idea where I am,” he said.

Holly smiled at him.  “He knows where you are,” she replied, and he blinked at her.  “That was him.  They’ve caught a case.  He wants you back in the office so you can run some searches for them while they’re in the field.”  Tony nodded, feeling rather let down.  He still wasn’t cleared.  He didn’t feel one hundred percent, but he hated being forced to stay in the office.  It beat staying home, but not by much.  “He did mention something about Rule Three.”

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.  “Damn!  The shrink made me turn it off, and I forgot.”

“Rule three?” she asked.

“Never be unreachable,” he said, and she nodded.  Once he’d taken care of the check, they headed back to NCIS.  “Why did he call you?” he asked after a couple of minutes.

“Because I called him to let him know where you were,” she said.  “While you were in the bathroom.”

Tony grimaced.  He’d just left the meeting with the shrink and gone outside.  He hadn’t even passed through the squadroom on the way.  “Was he pissed?”

“Worried, more,” she said.

Tony shook his head.  He knew Gibbs.  He’d been angry, and Holly was just trying to put a good face on it.  She dropped him back at the office and drove away, and Tony got straight to work.  He relayed the information he found to Gibbs, who actually seemed remarkably unpissed.

Towards three o’clock, his phone rang.  He picked it up, expecting Gibbs.  Instead he heard breathless feminine tones.  “Agent DiNozzo?”

“Speaking.”

“Thank God!” she exclaimed, and he recognized the voice suddenly.  Diane McCormick, and she sounded halfway to panicked.  “It’s Diane,” she said.  “I think . . . I . . . the man who killed my father . . . I think he’s following me.”

“Where are you?” Tony asked urgently.

“In the bathroom of a convenience store near Memorial Hospital in Stirling Falls,” she said, and Tony nodded.  That was where she and her parents had lived, just a few miles from Quanitico in Virginia.  “My mom was in a car wreck last night, so I got leave to come see her, but when I went to get her some real food, I noticed him a couple of minutes after I left the hospital, following me down the street.  I didn’t know what to do, so I ducked into the first store I came to and hid in the bathroom.”

Tony nodded anxiously.  “Are you safe right now?”

“I think so,” she said, but her tone told him clearly that she didn’t feel safe.

“Have you called the local police?”

“No.”

“Stay on the line, Diane.  I’m here, but I have to call –”

“My cell phone power is dying,” she interjected.  “I don’t think it’s going to last very long.”

Keeping his voice calm, he said, “Okay, what’s the name of the store?”

“I don’t . . .”  She paused to marshal herself, because her voice came back stronger when she spoke again.  “Quick Mart or Quick Stop, something like that.  Quick without a c.”

“Okay.  If you lose me, and if you can safely get to a pay phone or the store’s phone, call me at this number.  Can you write it down?”

“Sure,” she said, and he gave her his cell number.

“I’m on my way, and I’ll call the police and get them on their way, too, okay, Diane?”

“Hurry.  He –”

Tony glared at the phone as if it were responsible for losing his call and typed a quick message to Abby.  “ _Find me the phone number for any Quik Mart or Quik Stop or Quik anything near Memorial Hospital in Stirling Falls, VA.  Text it to my cell.”_

While she did that, he was calling up the local LEO numbers on his computer.  Dialing the number for the Prince William County Sheriff’s office on his cell, he grabbed his jacket and his gear and headed for the elevator.  The phone picked up and a canned voice began to speak.  “You have reached the Prince William Count Sheriff’s Department.  Press one for –”  This was supposed to be a straight through number.  He cursed but pushed the right buttons while he checked out a car from the lot.  Finally, on his way to find the car he’d been issued, he got through to a live person.  “Prince William County Sheriff,” said a bored female voice.

“This is Special Agent Tony DiNozzo from NCIS,” he said.  “I’ve got an emergency situation with a witness in your county.  I’m on my way, but I need some deputies to go out and stabilize the situation as soon as possible.”  Sounding a tiny bit more interested, she patched him through to the right person, and he explained the whole situation to Deputy Reynolds.

“That must be the Quik Shop,” Reynolds said when he was done.  “I should have someone over by there.  You want me to have them bring your witness to the office?”

Tony nodded.  “Once Parker sees the sheriff’s uniform, he’ll probably vanish, but it would be safer.  You might also put someone on her mother’s room in the hospital.  That’s Marjorie McCormick.”

“Got it.  I’ll call you when I’ve got more information.”

Tony hung up.  Abby had already texted him.  There was a phone number, and there was also a message.  “ _Where r u going?_ ”

He shook his head and dialed the number.  No one answered after six rings, so either the place was busy or Parker had lost his mind and done something stupid.  He called Reynolds back and informed him of this fact, then hung up and focused on driving for a couple of minutes.  Then he picked up the phone again and hit the speed dial for Gibbs.

“What, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, sounding a bit impatient.

“Got a call from Diane McCormick, Boss,” he said.  “She’s in Stirling Falls, her mother was in an accident and she got leave.  Anyway, she thought Parker was following her, so she hid in a convenience store bathroom and called me.”

“Stirling Falls?” Gibbs repeated, his tone all business now.

“Other side of DC from where you are now, Boss,” Tony said.

“I know that, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said irritably.

“I called the county sheriff, got people on their way to get Diane out of there, and I’m on my way there myself to bring her back to NCIS.”

There was a brief silence from Gibbs.  “DiNozzo, you’re on stand down.”

“Boss, she knows me.  If she panics, she’s going to need a familiar face to calm her down,” Tony said.  Gibbs made an impatient sound, but Tony knew he understood.  “By the time I get there, the sheriff’s department will have taken care of everything, so it won’t be a problem.”

“It had better not be.  Call me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who may not remember, Andrea Sparr is the detective from Stakeout (S5xE12).


	29. Chapter 29

Gibbs hung up his phone and tucked it in his pocket. "McGee, Ziva, get the evidence to Abby and make our friend comfortable." He glanced over at the subdued man sitting out of the way and under guard by Ziva. "Call me if there are any problems."

"Where are you going, Boss?" McGee asked. When Gibbs raised his eyebrows, McGee suddenly looked like he wished he could disappear.

"Ducky!" Gibbs called as the medical examiner climbed into his truck. "Got room for me?"

Ducky gave him an odd look, but he nodded, so Gibbs jumped in after him. Palmer was driving, Gibbs was glad to see. Ducky drove like . . . he drove slowly.

"What is up, Jethro?" Ducky asked, his natural formality making a hash of the idiom.

"DiNozzo's gone out in the field," Gibbs said sardonically.

"Oh dear," Ducky said, and Palmer's eyes widened. His speed increased slightly, for which Gibbs was grateful, even though he suspected it was just Palmer's subconscious desire to get an angry Gibbs out of the truck.

His phone rang again, and he pulled it out. Jenny. He grimaced, then opened it. "Gibbs."

"Where's Agent DiNozzo?"

"Did you try calling him?" he asked.

"I did. He didn't answer."

"When did you call, Jen?"

"Just a moment ago."

"He was on the phone with me," he said. "Rock and a hard place." He could almost see her narrowing eyes. "He's on his way to talk to Midshipman McCormick. There's been a development."

"A development that couldn't wait for his team? Something so urgent that he couldn't wait to be cleared?"

"The shrink downcheck him, Jen?" Gibbs asked.

"Not precisely," she said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means he has reservations given the way that DiNozzo disappeared immediately after the session."

"Holly swept him off to lunch, I told you that."

"Did you send DiNozzo out to talk to McCormick?"

Gibbs sighed internally. It was the question he'd been sidestepping. "No, I didn't, but I'm going out to meet him as soon as I get back in. I'm riding in now with Ducky and Palmer."

"Do you know where he's going?"

"Stirling Falls," Gibbs said.

"You taking your car, or shall I have a sedan waiting for you?"

"A sedan, I think," he said. "Anything else?"

"No, Jethro. Just you see he comes back in one piece."

She hung up, and Gibbs found himself wondering just how DiNozzo had left the office. He didn't have his own car, and he wouldn't have thought that the motor pool would have checked one out to an agent who wasn't cleared for field duty.

"Is there cause for concern, Jethro?" Ducky asked a moment after Gibbs had put his phone away.

"Maybe," Gibbs said, mentally cursing DiNozzo for being too headstrong and full of initiative. Then he leaned his head back against the seat and sighed. "Maybe."

* * *

"What happened?" Gibbs exclaimed.

Tony grimaced. Far from handling the matter before he got there, the local LEOs had let it devolve into a hostage situation. "Apparently, Parker was already inside when the deputy showed up, so he took the store clerk, a couple of customers and Diane hostage."

"How'd he get Diane?"

Tony shook his head. "We're not altogether sure how he got her to come out of the bathroom, but she's been seen. One of the deputies went to high school with her." Gibbs was silent for a long moment. "I'm five minutes away, now, Boss. It would be pointless for me to –"

"You shouldn't even be there, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, and Tony flushed. "But so long as you are, get in there and get things handled. I'll make it right later."

"Yes, Boss," Tony said.

"And don't get hurt."

There was a click as Gibbs hung up on him, and Tony put his own phone away. Once he'd gotten to the middle of town, he didn't have any trouble finding the spot. Four cruisers stood outside the store, deputies gathered behind them. Tape held bystanders back, though not as far back as Tony would have preferred. Tony pulled up as close as he could to the tape and parked parallel behind a trio of cars that had their noses to the curb. One of the deputies started towards him, clearly planning to chastise his parking decision, but when he pulled out his badge, the man simply held up the tape and led him over to the conference instead. "What's the latest?" he asked.

Deputy Reynolds, according to the name strip on his uniform, gestured towards the glass front of the Quik Shop. "When Deputy Sivell pulled up outside, we think your man Parker was already inside."

"How is Deputy Sivell?" Tony asked.

"He's in critical, but he'll make it," Reynolds said, glancing over at the old fashioned hospital building across the way.

Being injured across the street from a hospital had its perks, Tony thought in mordant amusement. "He made any demands?"

"Actually, yes," Reynolds said, and Tony raised his eyebrows expectantly. "He wants to talk to you."

"NCIS?"

"No, Agent Tony DiNozzo." Reynolds gave him a curious look. "He know you?"

Tony shook his head, a little alarmed. "We've never met. You got a phone number?" At that moment, Tony's phone began to ring. He looked down at the screen. The number on the caller ID was the one Abby had texted him. "Looks like I've got it," he said, and Reynolds guided him over to where their tech team was set up. Tony opened the phone and put it on speaker. "Agent DiNozzo."

"Are you the bastard that made Diane say I did it?" Parker demanded.

"What do you want, Miles?" Tony asked.

"I want you to get all those cops out of here so I can have a pleasant, private conversation with Diane."

"Not going to happen," Tony replied. "You shot a deputy sheriff. People don't take kindly to that."

"I did not kill Colonel McCormick."

Tony bit his lip. Telling Parker just how irrelevant that statement was to the current situation would probably _not_ be particularly productive just now. "Look, Miles, this isn't the way to prove that."

"Then how?"

Tony repressed the thought that immediately came into his mind – _coming to our office peacefully and providing a verifiable alibi would have been a good start_ – and tried to address the situation as it stood. "Well," he said in his most persuasive tone, "you could try letting all those people go, including Diane, and then we can talk about it."

"Why not now?" Parker asked obstinately.

"I can't do that while you still have hostages," Tony said. He grabbed a pen and the back of a sheet of paper and scrawled the words _how many?_ Reynolds shrugged, and Tony pursed his lips. "How many people you got in there with you?" he asked.

"Six," Parker said. "The clerk, some girl who looks about fifteen, a woman with a . . . make that seven. The woman has a baby _and_ a kid. Then there's an old guy and Diane."

Shit. Tony met Reynolds' worried gaze. "You've got to let them go, Parker. No one's going to listen to you if you're holding hostages."

"They have to," Parker growled angrily.

"Okay, strike that. No one's going to believe you're not a killer while you've got hostages."

Parker was silent for a moment. "I'll call you back," he said, then hung up.

Tony looked over at the window and stared. Gibbs was going to be pissed. "Have you guys got SWAT?"

"They're on their way over from the county seat, but it's going to be a while," Reynolds said. Tony nodded. "Who's this Colonel McCormick character?"

Tony grimaced. "The girl, Diane? The one I asked you guys to protect?"

Reynolds winced slightly at the implication, but he nodded. "Right."

"He's her father. He was murdered two years ago."

Reynolds' lips pursed in a whistle as Tony's phone rang. Picking it up, he looked at the screen and let out a deep breath. It was Gibbs. He flipped it open hastily. "Parker's using this number for negotiations, Boss," he said before Gibbs had a chance to say anything.

"You got another number for me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded. Tony reeled off the cell number he'd been using to communicate with Reynolds and hung up his phone.

Reynolds was staring at him. "Did you just hang up on your boss?" he asked.

Tony nodded. He was beginning to feel a bit of the reason why the doctors and Gibbs were insisting he wasn't ready for field work. He was fatigued, and his wrists and shoulders ached. He ignored it because he didn't have time to deal with it right now. This should have been an easy pick up. The local sheriffs scare the bad guy off, Tony swoops in and carries the damsel in distress back to the Navy Yard and no one gets into any more trouble than they can handle. It was rapidly growing more complicated. Reynolds' phone began to ring. He pulled it out and reeled off a string of digits.

"That's Gibbs," Tony said. Reynolds handed him the phone. Tony answered it and said, "DiNozzo."

"Report, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped.

Tony's phone rang again. "Parker's calling, Boss."

"Then get it, DiNozzo, and put both phones on speaker."

Tony put Reynolds' phone on speaker and set it on the back of the cruiser he was standing next to. Then he opened his own phone and put it on speaker, too. "This is Agent DiNozzo."

They could all hear the baby crying in the background. "I need more time to think," said Parker. "But the brat won't stop howling. He needs a diaper I guess, and the mother doesn't have one, and this place doesn't stock them."

"The easiest solution would be to let them go, Miles," Tony said gently.

"No!" Parker growled. "Nobody goes anywhere till I've had some time to think. Just get a diaper in here somehow."

Tony looked over at Reynolds, who sent someone off to find a diaper. "We're getting you one, just stay calm."

"Call me when you've got it," Parker said, and then he hung up again.

Tony closed his phone and, carefully putting Gibbs back on private again, he put the other phone to his ear. "You hear that, Boss?"

"There's a baby in there?" Gibbs demanded.

"A baby, a kid, their mother, a teenaged girl, an old guy, Diane McCormick and the clerk. I don't have names on anyone yet."

"Just keep him calm, DiNozzo. I'm fifteen minutes out."

Tony nodded, though he knew Gibbs had to have been flooring it all the way to be getting here that fast. "Right, Boss. On it." And Gibbs was gone before he'd finished speaking. Tony closed the phone and handed it back to Reynolds. "We got the diaper?" he asked.

One of the deputies came trotting up with a package of Huggies. "Should we give them the whole pack or just one?" he asked.

"Just one," Tony replied. "We don't want to give him permission to take as long as he wants." He dialed Parker back on speaker.

"Yeah?"

"We've got your diaper."

"Have someone put it on the ground outside, and I'll send someone out to get it."

Tony nodded and, after pulling one of the diapers out of the pack, the deputy gingerly went up towards the door and put it down. A moment later, the door opened, and a tiny girl emerged. She trotted forward, got the diaper, and trotted back inside.

"Alissa Tustin," Reynolds muttered.

"Now, can we –" Tony started to say, but Parker hung up again. Tony grimaced and turned to Reynolds. "Alissa Tustin?"

"She's four," Reynolds said. "That'll mean he's got Shelby and Ricky in there."

"Shelby's the mother?" Tony asked, and Reynolds nodded.

"Shelby Tustin," he said. "Ricky's maybe eight months. Dick Tustin teaches at the high school."

"Can you put names to anyone else?"

"The clerk's Joey Hanson, the old guy, as Parker puts it, is Jake Padgett, and no one recognizes the girl."

Tony sighed and looked around for somewhere to sit down. Unfortunately, unless he climbed into a car, there wasn't anywhere. He noticed the press at the edge of the crime scene tape and grimaced. "We need to move people back a bit further," he said.

"How much further?" Reynolds asked.

Tony judged the area, and the reach of the cameras, and how much he thought he could actually get away with. "Fifteen feet," he said, and Reynolds nodded. He went with his men to move the people and the barricades back, and Tony was glad to see that none of them responded to the questions from the press. His phone rang again and he saw that it was Parker. He pressed the speaker button. "DiNozzo."

"I've got a deal to offer you."

"Yeah?"

"I let the mother and the two kids go and you come in here and talk to me."

Tony thought fast. "How's this?" he countered. "You send out all the hostages, and I'll come in and talk to you."

"I'm not stupid," Parker snapped. "I'll give you the mother and her kids . . . and the girl . . . and you come in."

The closer he could get to Parker, the better, and getting all the minors out of the room had to be a good thing. "Okay," he said, but before he could propose anything else, Parker started speaking again.

"You come over in front of the door," he said. "As soon as I can see you out there, unarmed, I'll send the mom and the baby out. Then, when you come inside, I'll send the little girl out with her cousin."

New information, but useful. It would be better if he could get them all out, but he'd have a better chance of negotiating with the man if he was face to face. Gibbs was going to kill him. "Okay. Give me five minutes and be ready."

He hung up and tucked his phone in his pocket. Reynolds was walking back up as he turned. "Hey, you got any bulletproof vests I could borrow?" he asked.

Reynolds nodded and got him suited up. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm going inside in exchange for getting Shelby, the kids and the girl out. I guess she's some kind of cousin."

"You can't go in there!" Reynolds exclaimed.

"Which do you prefer?" Tony asked. "An infant and a four-year-old in the line of fire, or an adult who knows what he's going into and has experience with this kind of negotiation?"

"You been in a hostage situation?"

Tony's mind flashed first to the railing of the _Isabel Damita_ and then to that tense hour in the morgue of Jeanne's hospital. "More than once," he said. "I'm going in. You just be ready to get them when they come out."

"On it," Reynolds said. Tony could see his misgivings, but he ignored them, along with the twinges his body was giving him. He didn't need to be reminded of just how unfit he was.

Within minutes they were ready and Tony called Parker. "We're ready."

"Come ahead."

Tony walked forward with Reynolds beside him. When he was in plain view of the store – which unfortunately meant plain view of the cameras – he disarmed and handed his weapon to Reynolds, who then backed off. "Okay, Parker, it's your turn," Tony said. Several seconds passed, but then the door opened and Shelby Tustin emerged, looking terribly torn. She had the baby in a carry-sling across her chest, and she held him protectively close as she walked across the open space. Tony crossed the open space, passing them, then opened the door. "Okay, Parker," Tony said into the phone. "Send the other kids out now, and I'll come in."

"You come in first."

"I'll come in the minute they're out the door, but you have to send them out first," Tony said.

The seconds passed like minutes, but then a frightened teenager came out holding the little girl's hand. Tony walked in as soon as they were out of the way, just as he'd promised, and didn't spare a glance behind him to see the sheriff's people scoop them up and carry them away. The door fell shut behind him and he found himself looking into the business end of a very large automatic pistol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remind me why I'm posting my stories! Review! I am a needy soul and must have love. Or at least reaction . . . LOL.


	30. Chapter 30

Gibbs pulled up outside the taped off area, parking behind a television truck. Just what they needed. A media circus. He hurried to the tape and stopped dead in the process of showing his badge to the young man who was guarding the barrier. DiNozzo was walking across the open area in front of the Quik Shop, hands up. He stared in angry astonishment. What in the hell did he think he was doing?

Upon reaching the door, Tony pulled it open and stood back. There appeared to be a conversation going on, but Gibbs couldn't quite hear the details with all the people gathered around and idiots talking into microphones about sieges. The tape rose in front of him, and Gibbs walked forward on autopilot, tucking his badge away. He knew better than to yell at a moment like this, but he wanted to order DiNozzo over here to explain himself. Then something happened that rendered explanations unnecessary.

A girl who couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen emerged from the store with a four-year-old girl in tow. Both looked terrified, and as soon as they were clear, the teenager scooped her charge up and ran towards the sheriff's deputies, who hurried them back behind the line of cars around the front of the convenience store.

Gibbs looked back towards the store just in time to see his senior field agent disappearing inside, the door falling shut behind him. Retaking control over his body, he strode towards what looked like the command center. A deputy – Hutton, he noted automatically from the nametag – intercepted him, and he showed his badge again. "Who's in charge here?"

Deputy Hutton blinked at the badge for a second, then said, "This way, sir."

"I'm not a sir," Gibbs replied, following her.

"This is Deputy Reynolds," she said, visibly biting off the reflexive 'sir.'

Reynolds turned. He was a man of about forty, and he looked like he felt very much out of his depth. "Yes?" he said.

"Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he said, holding up his badge again before tucking it away. "I'm DiNozzo's boss."

"Right," Reynolds said. "Um . . . he just went inside with the suspect."

"I saw," Gibbs said. "He trade himself for hostages?"

"Shelby, Alissa and Ricky Tustin, and Shelby's niece Megan," Reynolds said, gesturing towards the small family grouping. The children were being checked out by paramedics while the mother was being questioned by a female deputy. "I wasn't sure I should let him go in, but he said he'd done it before." Gibbs nodded. DiNozzo was going to get an earful later, especially if this went south. He had to admit, though, that it would be better for there not to be three kids in the room if it did go south.

"What happened?" Gibbs demanded.

Reynolds shook his head. "I'm not sure. He asked me to move the civilians back. He must have gotten a call while I was making that happen." Gibbs glowered at the windows, willing someone from in there to call. "It doesn't surprise me, though," Reynolds said.

"Why's that?"

"Parker was asking for him from the word go," Reynolds replied. "Agent DiNozzo said he didn't know him, but Parker asked for him by name before he'd even gotten here."

"He probably got the name from Midshipman McCormick," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo's taken lead on her father's murder investigation." He pursed his lips. "You got anybody recording the calls?"

Reynolds introduced him to their tech guru, and Gibbs listened to two calls. "None of this covers him trading himself for the hostages," Gibbs said, finally. His fingers were itching to call DiNozzo, but he knew he'd be better off waiting. A sudden noise in there could blow things sky high.

"No . . . I . . . I was helping move the barricades just then," said the tech guy, and Gibbs didn't swear at him. He thought about it, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he walked over to the Tustin family, arriving just as the deputy had finished his questions. Shelby Tustin and the deputy – this one was Morris – looked up. "I'm Agent Gibbs, NCIS," he said, flashing his badge.

"Shelby Tustin," the woman said in a soft, pleasantly accented voice. She was slender and pale, and might have been pretty if she hadn't been blank with shock. "Can I help you?"

"My man is the one who just went in there," he added, and her eyes widened. "Can you tell me how that came about?"

She nodded. "The man in there, I don't know his name, he was pacing, muttering to himself about how he wanted to talk face to face with the . . . forgive me . . . the bastard who put Diane up to this."

Gibbs pursed his lips. "So it was his idea, not DiNozzo's?"

"He called your agent and offered him a deal," Mrs. Tustin said. "I hope everything turns out all right." She turned away towards the paramedics, who were giving the four-year-old a clean bill of health.

His phone rang as he turned back towards the command center, and he yanked it off his belt, hoping it was DiNozzo. Grimacing at the name he saw instead, he opened the phone and put it to his ear. "Yeah, Jenny?"

Her voice was icy. "Did I just see Agent DiNozzo, your agent who is not even supposed to be in the field, exchange himself for hostages?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, glaring over at the cluster of media vans. "You saw that?" he asked.

"It's on television, Jethro, covered by three channels."

"Did you see who he traded himself for?" Gibbs asked. Jenny made a noise that was indicative of frustration and annoyance. "I'll take that for a yes, Jen. I got here just as he went inside, and I'm honestly not sure I wouldn't have made the same call."

"You going to tell him that?"

"Hell, no," Gibbs growled. "What do you want, Jen?"

"I turned McGee and Ziva right around when they got back, and since Ziva grabbed the keys, I suspect they'll be with you shortly."

Gibbs nodded. "Thanks."

"Do you need any other support?"

"I'll let you know." He hung up the phone and walked back to the command center. He couldn't see anything through the front of the store. "We got eyes in there?"

"When SWAT gets here, we will," Reynolds said. "We just don't have the funds for that kind of equipment."

Gibbs hoped Jenny had given McGee enough time to grab some gear, but they probably hadn't known what the situation was yet then. He gazed at the windows and willed his phone to ring.

* * *

"Put your hands in front of you," Parker ordered, and Tony did as he was told. Parker looked towards the back of the store. "You, tie him up."

A youngish man came forward, Joey by Tony's guess, and waved his hands uncertainly. "What with?"

"He's got to have handcuffs on him," Parker said. "Check, and see if he's got any weapons while you're at it."

Tony stood still while Joey searched him. The younger man's hands were shaking slightly. He found the handcuffs with no difficulty, but he didn't find the only weapon Tony currently had on him, his trusty belt buckle. Tony put his arms together in front of him. "It's going to be okay, Joey," Tony said, and the young man looked up at him, startled.

"Quiet!" Parker growled. As soon as Tony was bound, he shoved Joey out of the way and grabbed Tony by the cuffs to jerk him further into the store. It was a very small, very crowded space. There was an L-shaped cash counter, with the long side of the L facing the entry into the store. Parker pulled Tony past it, then shoved him down to sit at the end, along the short side of the L. Diane and Jake Padgett sat against one of the refrigerators. Tony knew those led into the back room, which let out on an alley, but the only regular door to that back room had been blocked by the simple expedient of dragging a shelving unit across in front of it. "Go back and sit down!" Parker ordered, and Joey went back to sit beside Jake.

"So, you wanted to talk about –"

"Shut up!" snarled Parker. "I . . . I have things I want to say, but I'm not ready."

Tony blinked at him. "I've got to call my boss and let him know I'm okay."

"He can wait," Parker said. "Actually, where is your cell phone?"

"In my pocket," Tony said.

"Get it!" Parker ordered, and after a moment, Joey got up and crossed to him.

"Sorry," he muttered, digging in Tony's pocket.

"No problem," Tony said, grimacing slightly.

Joey held out the phone and Parker snatched it, shoving Joey back towards the other wall. Tony gazed worriedly up at Parker. He'd known that the man couldn't be altogether sane given his apparent belief that after shooting a deputy sheriff, all he had to do to avoid prison was prove that he hadn't killed Colonel McCormick, but given the state of his eyes, it seemed likely that there was considerably more than a few screws loose. Tony would lay good odds that he was high on something.

He let a couple of minutes pass, but the whole point of this move – beyond getting children out of the line of fire – had been to make negotiation easier. He cleared his throat. "Miles, we're going to need to talk about –"

"Not now!" Parker snapped, and Tony broke off. He watched Parker pace back and forth for a few moments, then turned his attention to his fellow captives. Diane McCormick had tucked her knees up to her chest, and she looked truly terrified. Jake Padgett had a mulish set to his lips that Tony hoped wouldn't get him into trouble. Joey had clearly been opted as Parker's errand boy, and he was performing those duties with a wide-eyed shock that could turn into guilt and humiliation when this was all over.

Tony wished he could look out the window. Gibbs had to have arrived by now. He wondered just how pissed off his boss was. "You know, Miles, I'm a little hungry," he said. "I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten since lunch."

Parker squatted in front of him. "Can't you shut up?"

"Why did you want me in here?" Tony asked. "I thought you wanted to talk."

Parker grabbed the front of Tony's shirt, creasing the fabric badly. "I want to know why you told Diane to tell everyone I killed her dad," he growled.

"I didn't," Tony said. "And she didn't. She helped draw a picture of the man she saw that night."

"Yeah, but she promised she'd never tell anyone," Parker said. "So you had to have told her to do it."

Parker didn't seem to recognize the admission he'd just made, and Tony wasn't pointing it out, not when the man was less than five inches from him and holding a very large pistol. Tony couched his words in a calm, convincing tone. "Look, what I'm saying is that she just drew a picture."

"Then how did you connect it to me?"

"We showed it to people," Tony said ingenuously. "Are you saying there's been a mistake? That you're not the guy in the picture?"

Parker nodded, blinking. "Yeah, I'm saying that," he said, the explosive rage lessening. His pupils were enormous, and he had sweat beading on his forehead and temples.

"Why didn't you just tell someone?" Tony asked.

"'Cuz they wouldn't believe me,"

"And this . . ." Tony gestured at the hostages and the store. "You thought this would make them believe you?" Tony heard a vague whimper of alarm that he thought came from Joey. "You shot a cop, Miles," he added, still in that soft, relaxed voice.

"That wasn't supposed to happen. I just wanted to talk to Diane."

"You shot a cop," Tony repeated. They couldn't go forward until Parker acknowledged that event's relevance.

"It was an accident."

Tony blinked at him. "Well, you know, shooting a cop by accident is a different thing than doing it on purpose." On a completely sober and sane man, this ploy wouldn't work, but he thought Miles Parker had gone several yards past sane and sober.

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know," Tony replied honestly. "He's in the hospital."

Parker stared at him, hand still tangled in Tony's shirt, and Tony willed him to believe that there was a way out of this mess that didn't involve shooting an innocent midshipman, two civilians and an NCIS agent. After a moment, Parker released him, dug in his pocket and thrust Tony's cell phone at him. Tony took it in his cuffed hands and looked at Parker curiously. "Call. Find out."

He was evidently still enough with it to realize that a dead deputy would not be so good for his chances. Tony dialed two and then hit Send on his phone, then held it awkwardly to his ear. At least the cuts on his wrists were fully healed so the cuffs weren't digging into him, though his shoulders were already beginning to ache.

"Gibbs."

"Boss, how's the deputy in the hospital?" Tony asked. He knew what the answer would be even if the man had died, but he was only asking the question for Parker's benefit.

"He's fine, DiNozzo. How are you?"

"Peachy," Tony said. "Here, I think our friend would like to talk to you." He held the phone up towards Parker. "It's for you," he said.

"Who is it?"

"Agent Gibbs. He's my boss."

Parker blinked at him. "Your boss?"

"Yeah, Gibbs," Tony said, gesturing towards him with the phone. "Tell him what you told me."

Parker took the phone uneasily and put it to his ear, and Tony relaxed his head against the counter. Getting Gibbs involved didn't remove the responsibility from his shoulders, but it spread it out a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As we near the end of this story (yes, all things must come to an end) , I would like to let you know that I am already prepping the next story to start posting. It is an alternate universe version of this story (yes, I do write AU versions of my own stories), and it is completely written. What this means in practical terms is that you're going to see Brody again, alive and in color, and he will menace Tony again. Also, because it is completed, you will continue to enjoy weekly postings. Please forgive me for making it weekly, but anticipation makes pleasure so much the greater._
> 
> _Fair warning, if you don't like Jeanne Benoit, you may not enjoy this upcoming story._


	31. Chapter 31

"Here, I think our friend would like to talk to you," DiNozzo said.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs replied, trying to get his agent to come back on the phone, but the next voice he heard was not DiNozzo's.

"Um . . . hi?"

"Hello," Gibbs said. "Who is this?"

"Miles," the voice said. "I . . . um . . . I didn't mean to shoot the cop. It was an accident."

Gibbs blinked and nodded. "What did you mean to do?" he asked.

"I was just going to talk to Diane," Parker said.

"How's that working out for you?" Gibbs asked.

Parker didn't respond immediately. Gibbs could hear DiNozzo's voice in the background, and then Parker said, "I'm sorry I shot the cop. I . . . I just wanted to talk to Diane and get her to stop saying I killed her dad."

"We can talk about that when you come out here, Parker," Gibbs said. "But you've got to let those people go, first."

"That's what Agent DiNozzo says."

Gibbs nodded. "So, are you going to do it? If you're really sorry, you need to show it."

"I . . . I'll call you back," Parker said.

Gibbs stared at the suddenly dead phone and put it back in his pocket.

"What did he say?" Reynolds asked, and Gibbs suddenly realized that he hadn't put the phone on speaker.

"He said he shot your man by accident and he apologized."

"So what?" Reynolds said, a glint of anger in his eyes.

"If we can get him out of there based on it, I'm all for it," Gibbs said mildly. "DiNozzo is negotiating in his inimitable style."

"Well, if it gets the hostages out . . ." Reynolds said, looking irritated all the same.

"How is your deputy?"

"They've moved him to the ICU. He'll recover but he's not likely to ever be fit for duty again." Reynolds shook his head. "That bastard has a lot to answer for."

"Starting with a dead Marine colonel," Gibbs said.

"Right," Reynolds said.

* * *

 

Tony gazed up at Parker, who had begun pacing again. He was worried, but he strove to seem cool and collected. He needed to be calm for Parker since the man was incapable of it himself. "What are you going to do, Miles?" he asked in a casual tone.

"I don't know." Parker jerked on his hair. "I don't want to go to prison."

Tony had a feeling that a hospital would be first in any case. "We can work that out, but the first step is letting these people go."

"I can't, they're my guarantee that no one's going to shoot me."

Tony shook his head. "Not anymore," he said gently. Parker turned to look at him, alarm in his eyes. Tony raised a reassuring hand. "You've got me," he said. "You can let them go and keep me. See, that way we've got all the civilians out of the way."

"So just you and Diane," Parker said.

"No, we don't even need Diane, really," Tony replied.

"But she's the one who's saying it was me." Parker looked over at her, and she shrank. "She said it was me."

Tony really hoped she hadn't said that since this whole thing had started, at least not where Parker could hear her. "No, she didn't, Miles," he said persuasively. "She drew a picture of something she saw for a minute years ago. It's not her fault that someone else misidentified it."

Parker seemed to have trouble following that train of reasoning. "I . . . I don't . . ."

"She just drew a picture. Someone else said it was you."

"Who was that?" Parker demanded. "Get him here. I want to talk to him."

"That won't help, Miles," Tony said. "But regardless, this isn't Diane's fault. You need to let her, and Joey and Jake go."

Parker looked at his little row of hostages. Not one of them had the folly to look hopeful, and not one of them spoke. "It'll help?"

Tony nodded. "It will help."

"Go, then, get out of here, all of you." Tony was about to say that they should call out first, but it was too late. The minute Parker said go, Joey was on his feet and headed towards the door. Padgett helped Diane to her feet and walked out with her, meeting Tony's eyes for a second as he passed, a mute thanks in them. "Go on, get!" Parker said, and they fled the building. There were no gunshots, even if there was a bit of yelling, and Tony let out a breath of relief. The rest of the innocents were gone. Now it was just him and the criminal. The slightly insane, totally wasted criminal. Tony prayed he could maintain the mood long enough.

* * *

Gibbs was startled when three people came running out of the front door of the convenience store. No warning, nothing, just three hostages, two men and a woman. Gibbs narrowed his eyes. The woman was McCormick, and neither man looked like the photographs of Parker that he'd seen.

"Hold your fire!" called Reynolds. "Bring them over here."

As the officers gathered up the midshipman and her companions, Gibbs looked up at the store, hoping that DiNozzo would be coming out, too. No such luck, unfortunately.

"Gibbs?!" He turned at Ziva's shout and walked across to the barrier where McGee and Ziva were being held up by an officious deputy. "Would you tell these people that we are supposed to be here?"

Gibbs nodded at the deputy who was blocking the way. "Let them in," he said.

The deputy gave way, and Gibbs gestured with his head for them to follow him as he walked swiftly to where paramedics were now checking out the most recently released hostages. The younger man was already being transported to the hospital, in too much shock to speak coherently. Diane McCormick grabbed his arm as soon as he got close enough. "He's crazy!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her whole body shivering. "He's totally insane!"

"Parker?" he asked.

She shook her head wildly. "Tony! He's saying the craziest things and that man is believing him. He said . . . he said . . ."

"It's okay, midshipman, calm down."

"But he –"

"Calm down," Gibbs said firmly. "I need you to tell me everything that happened."

McCormick took a deep breath and started trying to pull herself back under control. Gibbs was pleased to see that it didn't take very long. She looked up at him, her eyes still exhibiting controlled panic, but her words were calm. "Tony told him that –"

A gunshot rang out from the convenience store, and Gibbs forgot everything except his man inside the store. He shot a look at Ziva and McGee. Both were ready, though McGee was a little wild-eyed. He communicated his intent in an instant to Ziva, who nodded and followed him as he ran across the open space between the police cars and the front of the store. Down low, below the level of the counter, he plastered himself against the window. Ziva hit the wall on the other side of the door with McGee beside her.

A glance at Ziva told him she was ready, and he flung the door open and swung inside. There was no answering gunfire. A figure moved ahead of him and he took immediate aim.

"Boss?" DiNozzo was standing, a pistol in his cuffed hands. "What took you so long?"

Gibbs stared at him, astonished. "Where's Parker?"

"I think he'll live," DiNozzo said, looking down. Gibbs rose slowly and followed his gaze. Parker lay on his back on the floor in a litter of plaster chunks, a reddening spot on his forehead showing where DiNozzo had struck him with his own gun. DiNozzo lifted his arms with the cuffs on them. "Anybody got keys for these? It's getting a little old."

"Are you all right, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure," DiNozzo said. "He turned his back and I took full advantage." He gestured upwards and Gibbs spared a glance. It was clear where the bullet they'd heard had gone. "The ceiling will never be the same," DiNozzo remarked unnecessarily. Gibbs pulled his keys out of his pocket and released DiNozzo from the cuffs. He held them out towards McGee, who fumbled an evidence bag out of a pocket and took them. "Boss, those are my cuffs," DiNozzo protested.

"And they're evidence. Ziva, tell Reynolds we need an ambulance."

The next hour was governed by the need for evidence collection and medical check ups. Despite DiNozzo's protests, Gibbs insisted that a doctor check him out. Once the store was processed, he sent McGee to keep watch over Parker till another team could be sent out to transport him to Bethesda for medical care and a psych evaluation. He set Ziva to keep an eye on Midshipman McCormick and bring her back to NCIS when she had been checked out and when she'd had a chance to look in on her mother. He got the keys to the car DiNozzo had checked out from the motor pool and handed them off to McGee so that if his assignment and Ziva's ended at different times, they would be able to travel independently. Then he guided DiNozzo firmly towards the SUV he'd checked out.

"Boss, where are we going? We need to –"

"You need to get back to the office, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "You're not fit for field duty." DiNozzo's shoulders slumped.

Deputy Reynolds was passing them at that moment. "What did you say?" he asked. Gibbs just looked at him. "Did you just say he's not fit for . . ." The man let his words peter off in response to Gibbs' icy demeanor.

DiNozzo took pity on him. "I haven't been medically cleared for field duty," he said in an apologetic tone.

"Then why were you out here?" Reynolds asked.

"Diane called me for help," DiNozzo said. "I was just planning to come down and pick her up from your office. Not really a field issue. Boss, if we're going, I need to hit the . . . the restroom."

Gibbs saw him edit his words and didn't say anything. Sooner or later that word would cease to hold dread for DiNozzo, but Gibbs was going to let that come in its own time. "I'll be here," Gibbs said.

Reynolds watched DiNozzo go, then said, "Are you telling me that I let a man who's on medical stand down go into a hostage situation?"

"I'm not telling you anything," Gibbs said mildly. "But yes, you did."

"He doesn't seem unwell."

Gibbs snorted. "He wouldn't."

"What's wrong with him?"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, and Reynolds abruptly found something else to do. DiNozzo emerged a few moments later and they headed down to the car. After a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, DiNozzo actually drifted off to sleep, so Gibbs did his best not to wake him. He'd need all the rest he could get to face the grilling Jen was going to subject him to.


	32. Chapter 32

Gibbs' phone rang just as he was considering rousing his senior field agent, so he'd have enough time to fully wake up before they arrived at the Navy Yard. DiNozzo stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking vaguely adolescent. Gibbs picked up his phone. "Gibbs."

"Jethro, are you bringing DiNozzo back here, or what?"

"We're about ten minutes out from you, Jen," Gibbs said irritably. "We'll be there shortly."

"Good. Bring him straight up to my office."

"Right." Gibbs flipped the phone shut and dropped it on the console.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" DiNozzo asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Probably," Gibbs replied. DiNozzo nodded, and Gibbs could see that he was still trying to wake up. Spotting a coffee drive-thru up ahead, Gibbs pulled off the road into its driveway. "What do you want?"

DiNozzo placed his order for syrup and cream with a side of coffee, and took it with murmured thanks. Gibbs didn't want him appearing as sleepy and out of it as he currently seemed in front of Jen. She was already gunning for them both over this whole situation. No need to give her ammunition.

* * *

Tony pulled himself gradually out of the funk brought on by napping. Jenny – he stopped himself – Director Sheppard undoubtedly had what she saw as valid reasons for being angry with him. He just had to figure out how to convince her that she was wrong. It occurred to him suddenly that Gibbs had failed utterly to read him the riot act or even give him a smack on the head. Just how pissed was he? He gave Gibbs a sidelong look and sighed. San Francisco might be his best bet after all.

They came to a stop at a light, and Tony started to take a sip of his coffee. A thump against the back of his head made him turn suddenly. "What was that for?" he exclaimed, thankful that his coffee hadn't spilled.

"What do you think it's for, DiNozzo?"

Tony looked at Gibbs' imperturbable expression and scowled, even though he felt a bit reassured by the gesture. "I can think of too many reasons," he muttered. "I don't want to give you any ideas." Gibbs smacked him again and Tony snorted.

"What were you thinking, DiNozzo?"

Tony grimaced. "That it wouldn't be any big deal to drive down to Stirling Falls and pick McCormick up at the sheriff's office, and that she'd feel safer, all in all, with someone she recognized rather than a total stranger." He looked appealingly at his boss, but Gibbs was focused on the road. "I called the local LEOs for support, I called you, and I didn't expect it to get that woolly."

Gibbs shrugged. "We never do, DiNozzo, but you have to be prepared."

"I know," Tony said with a sigh. No one said anything for a long moment, and Tony squirmed internally, sure that his boss was just about fed up with him.

"You know my rule about apologizing?" Gibbs asked, and Tony blinked uncertainly, not sure what the question was apropos of. He nodded. "You may have to break it today."

"What?"

"When you talk to the director. Don't overdo it or anything, but . . ." Gibbs shrugged, and a comfortable silence fell. Gibbs pulled into a parking spot, turned off the car and grabbed his stuff. He stared forward through the windshield for a moment. "Good work, DiNozzo," he said, then he opened the door and got out.

Tony stared through the windshield for a moment, feeling as though a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders, though he wasn't quite sure why. He got out of the car hastily and hurried after Gibbs. "Hey, Boss, since I'm having such success with cold cases, maybe I should keep on that while I'm stuck at my desk."

"Sounds good," Gibbs replied.

"And not so much of the filing," Tony ventured hopefully.

"Don't push your luck, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, and Tony laughed.

"This reminds me of the end of –"

"DiNozzo, are you about to make a movie reference?" Gibbs demanded.

"Um . . . yeah, Boss."

"Don't."

Tony closed his mouth with a grin. Gibbs hadn't shut him up in three weeks. He followed his boss inside with a great feeling of well-being. Life was back to normal again.

Besides, San Francisco was far too foggy.

**finis**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for following me on this exciting and slightly insane ride. Now I invite you to join me on another one. Another one that includes Brody Harris, even. If you could peruse my hard drive, you would find that I have written alternate versions of a number of my stories over the years, as AUs have always appealed to me in many ways. If you're reading my Supernatural stuff, you'll already know this, though that's less a deliberate AU than a variation on a premise and an exploitation of the theory of parallel universes.
> 
> In six days, I will begin posting another take on how Brody and Tony deal with their 'break up,' called _Bound and Rebound_ , a not so subtle pun on the name of this story, and yes, taken from Pixar. This one takes place later in the time frame of NCIS. Jeanne Benoit has already come back and accused Tony of murder, and he's been cleared, and she's gone away again. Now she's back. Be warned, I like Jeanne, so I present her as a positive character. If this will pose you a problem, I'm sorry, you'll have to forego the story. If you think you can give it a go, please do try.


End file.
